


Shacking Up

by EntreNous



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, Multi, Roommates, Slash, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-15
Updated: 2005-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 73,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Tales of the Revolving Door Roommates at Chez Harris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Thing About Roommates

**Author's Note:**

> Started in 2003, finished in 2005, Shacking Up is one of the first fanfics I wrote. Though I'm sure I would write and edit it into a much different result today, I'm very fond of it still. As I marathoned BtVS eps heavily during the writing, I parlayed my love for ensemble interactions into this story. So there's lots of Spike/Xander, but also a significant B-story with Willow, Oz, and another character, a number of multiple-character scenes, and a fair amount of focus on friendship issues as well as romantic relationship issues. If you decide to give it a try, I really hope you enjoy it!

Sometimes you live with people, roommates from college, friends of friends, or that weird ex-boyfriend of your cousin who takes over part of the lease, and you never really know them. Their dreams play out only a wall away in the bedroom that abuts yours, their dead skin cells float around you in the dusty air when both of you forget to clean, but you don't know much about their families. You don't really care about their jobs, and you hope they won't confide in you about their agonizingly mundane relationships, even as you try not to hear them jack off early on the weekend and grouse at them under your breath when you realize they've eaten all the bananas Monday morning. Maybe you share CDs and listen to the radio together when the coffee is brewing, but you still smack your hand over your mouth when they burst into the kitchen unexpectedly as you're belting out "Girls on Film." Sometimes you share the same space for years, but never venture further, never share anything else.

Then again, sometimes you live with someone, and you know him without even knowing it. Sometimes better than you know yourself.

“Cheeto?” Xander asked earnestly, holding the bag up and back behind his head. It was Saturday, he was slumped comfortably on the couch, and he kept his eyes on the TV, not on the vampire puttering around in the kitchenette behind him.

“Thought they were cheet-os,” Spike said gruffly as he leaned over the back of the couch and pulled out a messy handful. *Ping!* went the microwave.

“Singular versus plural. Like, you know, biscotto versus biscotti.”

“Well, aren't we cosmopolitan, nummy,” Spike said sarcastically as he tried to balance the large orange pile in one hand as he returned to leaning on the back of the couch, steaming mug in hand. Most of the cheese flavoring on the cheetos in Spike's hand fell into Xander's dark hair.

“What, I can't know grammar?” Xander pulled the bag back and tossed it on the coffee table in front of him between his upraised feet. He shook his head mournfully at Spike's negative assessment of his compositional training, unknowingly shaking orange powder all over the cushions. “I know all kind of things about singular versions of generally plural nouns. You should see my noun-verb agreements. And I can splice commas like — wait, no, that’s a wrong thing.”

Spike wasn't really paying attention. He crumbled one cheeto, then half of the remaining cheetos into his blood, then cocked his head to the side as he considered whether to add the rest all at once. “ ’s like oyster crackers," he mumbled. "Don't want them to get too soggy all at once. Then again, don't want them completely crisp, dry. Better starting out with really crispy things that absorb, but not all the way. But not so crispy that they don’t absorb—stupid bloody grape nuts.”

“It is truly a fine line you walk in your choice of snack foods, Spike. Forgive me when I say that I don't envy you.”

Spike peered pensively into his mug of blood. “Seems a bit early for those things — don't your sort eat cereal or something in the morning?”

“Only thing left in the house,” Xander said absently. Then he turned around. “What, why do humans have to have variation from meal to meal? With you, it's all blood, all the time. Doesn't it get dull? Or do you do Oneg in the am, ABpos for a snack, then maybe try to get blood that still has bits of flesh in it for variety for Sunday brunch?”

“Eat human food too, don't I? Texture's nice, gives variety. Like to try almost anything edible. But don't get sick of blood. Every source tastes different. Some sweet and light, some deep and oaky, some…chalky.”

“Hmm. I never thought I'd know so much about different types of…wait, are we talking about wine or blood? And-chalky? That's disgoosting.”

“Oh, I'm not one for complaining,” Spike continued cheerfully. “All kinds of tastes for all kinds of moods.” It was a bit hard for Xander to understand him though the bloody cheetos he chomped on, but after years of following Willow's crazy tonalities, he could figure out what almost anyone said.

Xander shifted, holding his hand to his chest and scratched carelessly. Spike slid around almost noiselessly in the kitchen. Nouns. Verbs. Verby nouns. “A noun's a special kind of word/It's any name you've ever heard/I find it-quite interesting/A noun's a person, place, or thing” Xander sang quietly. It was a testament to how used the two roommates were to one another that Spike didn't even need to ask the provenance of the Schoolhouse Rock ditty.

Spike turned back to the sink and filled his mucky mug with hot water. He couldn't bring himself to wash anything, but Xander had started him on the minimal chore of soaking his plasma-stained glasses, bowls, and teacups. “Oh, and it was Courtney Love. You were wrong.”

Xander turned and stared blankly for a second before he scowled at his live-in vamp. “Could've sworn it was Madonna who played Big Pink,” he began.

“Please, like you are the only one who knows cinema references. I'll bet you didn't even see ‘Basquiat.’ ”

“Why would I see that artsy crap? I'll have you know I saw the trailer, and I could've sworn…”

Spike narrowed his eyes. Xander rolled his own. An elegant white hand unfurled, and a warm calloused one shoved a fiver into it. “What does Willow always say? Never make a bet with a vampire,” Xander scolded himself. When would he learn?

“I’m not doing this again with you!” Xander called out to Spike as the vamp smugly slid into his room.

“No, certainly not, pet. We won’t do it until the next time we do.” Spike answered back cheerfully.

“We need some new rules around here.” Xander said quietly, frowning to himself. He turned his head and stared at the hall Spike had waltzed down. Then his gaze returned thoughtfully to the coffee table. “Also looks like we need more Cheetos.” He swung his legs off the table, planted his feet on the floor, and went hunting for his car keys.

**********

After Spike added the cash to his ever-growing pile of wager winnings, he decided to run a bath.

Now, Xander bitched about the chocolate digestive crumbs buried in the seat cushions of the couch, made fun of Spike's endless supply of red silk shirts, howled unmercifully when Spike woke up with his hair askew, and taunted his roommate over the few wagers he actually lost. Yet Xander remained curiously silent on the topic of Spike's proclivity for steaming up the bathroom. No complaining, no mocking, no picking up of Spike's patchouli bath gelee and muttering “The hell?” At first, Spike had snuck around, soaking during the afternoon after lunch to avoid the possibility that Xander might come home from work to eat in the middle of the day. A two or three o'clock turn in the tub also left enough time to air out the room before the boy returned in the evenings. He had grown more bold however in recent months, leaving washcloths dripping on the hot and cold water knobs and sometimes running his baths dangerously close to the time when Xander was due home from work. So Xander knew about this indulgence, and it seemed he had decided it wasn't worthy of remark.

So after Xander took off, Spike cheerfully wiggled out from under the couch with his secret box of bath condiments and paraphernalia, unconcerned that his bath would be discovered. And suddenly realized he was out of bath oil. And that made him realize that he hadn't somehow been out of the bath oil for months. And that was unusual, considering how much oil he liked to use.

He stood in the doorway to the bathroom listening to the drip drip dripping of the sink faucet as he wiggled the bottle experimentally as though it would replenish itself magically. He stopped at once and stood stock still when he finally got it.

Xander. Xander had gone ahead and replaced the green tea bath oil. Just as Xander now picked up Spike's bags of blood without the vampire even realizing that he was close to running out. Just as the boy sometimes came home with a pack of cigarettes that he tossed at his roommate casually so that Spike wordlessly caught it and began to pack it down.

Just as Xander almost automatically got a hold of and kept the things Spike was used to having around him so smoothly that it hadn't dawned on Spike until now that he was the recipient of some kind of covert operation of purchase and supply.

Spike jerked his head up suddenly as he intuited that he had been standing in one place for some time, and that it would be dark outside. Almost time for — and there was the sound of a key in the lock, and feeling oddly shy despite his master vampire status, cocky attitude, and general Big Badness, Spike flew into the living room closet where Xander kept his jackets and coats and peered out through the small crack he'd left between the door and the frame.

Xander stumbled in with his arms full of bags, humming tunelessly as he kicked the door shut and dropped his packages on the counter of the kitchenette. Spike snickered noiselessly as the boy ripped open a box of Twinkies before even pulling it out of the bag and unpeeled a two-pack. He shoved one halfway into his mouth, set the other down on the counter, and continued humming his off-key song around the Twinkie as he started to empty the first bag.

Pop Tarts. Coffee. Sugar. Half and Half. The kind of peanut butter that comes with the jelly already swirled in it. Two bags of Wonder Bread. More Cheetos. A large bunch of bananas. Pudding cups. Pretty much everything Xander needed for breakfasts and late night snacks.

Spike shifted from one foot to the other as Xander started to unload the next bag with his head tipped back to keep the twinkie from falling out of his mouth. Toothpaste. Razors. Antibiotic treated band-aids. Spike's cigs. Spike's Rolling Stone Magazine. Spike's bath oil.

The vampire's eyes widened as he saw the items he was so used to having around, and then looked up at Xander quickly. He gripped the polyester blend sleeves of Xander's spring bomber and almost fell out of the closet. Because Xander had paused, his eyes closed, to slowly ease the remaining Twinkie half past his full lips.

He'd heard Willow and Buffy make all kinds of jokes about Xander and Twinkies; he'd even caught them wrapping huge price-club sized boxes of the snack in bright paper for Xander's birthday. Xander may have been an afficianado of all kinds of chocolate bars and he might have craved the salsa/velveeta/bean/beer dip that Willow sometimes made for Scooby meetings (especially since Giles had banned them from making it at his apartment). But Twinkies were the all-occasion snack. He always ate them. Yet the treats weren't old hat for the boy. Oh no.

Spike got an eyeful of that right now as Xander slid more of the cake into his mouth and moaned around the yellow cylinder.

The vampire widened his eyes, and then shook his head quickly, snapping his slack jaw shut. Then Spike growled, softly enough he thought, but Xander apparently heard. Xander froze, but then his face changed quickly from wariness to barely contained amusement. “Watcha doin' hiding in the closet, your Big Badness?”

“You — you” Spike stammered. He thrust his index finger out at Xander accusingly as he burst out of his hiding place. “You're buying me things.”

“By god, you're right!” Xander failed to look shocked, and swallowed what was left of the Twinkie. “What sort of evil spell is upon us that I've been replenishing your blood supply! What kind of sick, twisted mind would – ”

“Not that!” Spike waved his hand dismissively, then pointed at the items Xander had unpacked. “The other, the magazine, the – Don't you dare!!!”

Xander slowly withdrew his hand from the second Twinkie waiting in the open packet, and turned to look at Spike curiously. “Are you off your nut? Or has the fight for puppies and Christmas turned you so far to the side of all that is righteous that you're now defending snack cakes? How come you don't want me to eat this? You want it? Come on, Spike. If you want it, just take it.” He held it out to Spike.

Spike stopped, and screwed up his face in utter peevish frustration. Under his constant pallor he appeared to change shades several times. He waved both his hands about wildly. Then he stomped off to his room and slammed the door.

Xander wrinkled his brow, shrugged, and got his keys. At the door he paused. “Oh, Spikey? You're back in business with the bath oil, 'kay? So if maybe that would help with your crappy mood, by all means, soak away.”

When Spike heard Xander leave about five minutes later, he glided silently into the common area. He picked up the plastic bottle, and made for the couch to pull out his box of secret stuff. He stopped just as he was about to kneel down, however, and looked at the item in his hand. “All right then,” he murmured, and went to put the bath oil on the side of the bath tub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, I've changed some of the early chapter titles in this fic, in part because when I first shared initial parts this story, I had the terrible habit of posting chapters with sub-parts parts and titling _everything_ separately. If you're rolling your eyes at this, rest assured it drove everyone back then nuts too. So. Simplifying a bit. 
> 
> Also, bear with me as I iron out the original posting dates -- as many of the yahoo lists to which this story posted (remember _those_?) are now defunct, I don't have the exact month/date for posts until about Chapter 12. So though it appears I had an extremely productive July of 2003, the postings were more reasonably spaced out over weeks/months.


	2. It's the Little Things

It wasn't clear to Spike exactly why Xander's purchases seemed…off. The trip to the bathroom to stow his oil had indeed turned into a full-on soaking, and the Rolling Stone was already in damp tatters, having been dropped into the steaming water three times.

Spike dropped the magazine derisively. He sneered menacingly to himself in the bath as he shrugged his shoulders lower into the warm scented water and then pouted.

Why should Xander buying him things be a problem? After all, as a Master Vampire, he was used to having his needs and whims fulfilled before he'd even quite realized he had had them. Minions had kept him in bootleg Sex Pistols CDs, his favorite brand of smokes, even things like the hard-to-obtain Jammy Dodgers (once his court had gotten online access they acquired all kinds of good stuff-Dru herself was partial to Double Deckers and Aero bars, even when she forgot to feed on blood like a normal vamp).

Like the best of concierges or valets, his minions had gotten him tickets to the Buzzcocks reunion tour before he'd even heard they were on the road again, offered him manacles (purchased even before he'd decided to torture his latest victim), and even placed bowls of razors and laundry bags filled with oranges thoughtfully throughout the mansion.

True, they were a thick-headed bunch when it came to trapping the Slayer or assembling disembodied demons, but they were good at the little things that made life…nice. Spike felt slightly wistful as he recalled how they'd worked so hard to keep him comfortable that he hadn't even really noticed them. Not even to mention how they had thought even to supply Dru with odd bits of ribbon and lace to keep her dollies lovely.

But Xander was no vampire minion, and even though he belonged to what Spike had once fondly referred to as the "vast array of edibles crawling the earth," it seemed odd to lump the boy in the category of those who fetched and carried for him, even if it was in the subcategory of human caretaker. Spike scoffed. Xander his human caretaker. Piffle. Even if said human caretaker did nice things, and fixed stuff, and looked so biteable when he ate twinkies…"None of that now," Spike muttered as he shook his head, trying to clear the images flashing through his brain of Xander going down on cakey goodness, Xander slurping on Popsicles, Xander sliding a banana into his mouth, Xander sucking on…other kinds of treats.

Spike shook his head with awesome finality, and twisted his lips into a frightening scowl as he exfoliated his feet.

Suddenly, he dropped his loofah and sat bolt upright, splashing water on the floor. Human caretaker? Caretaker??? What did that make Spike, some kind of bleeding pet?

**********

Xander jabbed his finger sharply right between Willow's shoulder-blades. "Hey!" She cried out angrily as she woke up with a start, then "Hey!" in a friendly way when Buffy and Giles turned to her. "Hey now, don't look so blue, your plan will work, you're good at the planning 'cause you're…planny," she finished plaintively.

Giles cleared his throat. "Yes, well."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Will" Buffy said impatiently even as she scrunched up her nose affectionately at the redhead.

"How long was I out?" Willow whispered to Xander once the Slayer and her Watcher were again engrossed in strategizing.

" 'Bout ten minutes. I almost went under myself, but then I remembered that I was on watch tonight."

Willow nodded gratefully. She and Xander took turns being the one who got to space out at meetings, and the other one always kept a sharp eye out for droopy eyelids before the snoring started. "I had a chem test today, and I'd been up for 39 hours studying before it."

"No worries, Will. The Xan-man will watch your back." Xander patted her shoulder reassuringly, then shook her by the shoulder vigorously when her head started to fall forward.

"Xander?" Buffy inquired.

"Just convincing Miss Stubborn over here that we can't go out and just fight this thing alone. Not without you. I mean, you being the Slayer and all."

Buffy's eyes narrowed at Willow, who sat up straight and tried her best to look foolhardy and aggressive. "We could so take this on ourselves, except for that we can't, 'cause Xander's right, and you're-and…no matter how defiant and brazen I am…well…"

Buffy nodded uncertainly, then grinned at the two on the couch. "Okay, you two. Time for good little slayerettes to be in bed. This thing won't be able to emerge for three days now that it's made the first kill, and I just need to do another routine sweep tonight. So you are hereby" she waved her hand magnanimously, "dismissed!"

"Wow really?" "you sure, 'cause we'd be glad to, with the helping-" "You're the best, Buff!" "Call if you know, need-" "Bye!" The two of them scrambled over each other in their rush to dash out the door.

Giles sighed. "Perhaps all of you should get some sleep. You've already made one pass at the cemeteries tonight, and you'll need to conserve your strength for the battle ahead."

Buffy hopped off the long table nimbly, then smiled sleepily at Giles. "Okay, Watcher o' mine. I'm going home to bury myself under my covers and snore like a jackhammer."

"One thing before you depart, Buffy-"

Buffy sighed dramatically, eased her arm out of the jacket she had been putting on, and flopped down into Giles's comfy chair. "What's up?" She suppressed a yawn.

"It's just a thought I had about our Xander and…Spike. Now that Xander's settled in to the new apartment, and Spike is fairly self-sufficient and can at least fight demons, perhaps it is time to make new arrangements for Spike. We might raise the topic at our next gathering. I notice that Xander falls asleep at meetings more often now,--"

"Except for when Willow does." Buffy volunteered helpfully.

"Yes, quite. But Willow is exhausted from midterms, and Xander just seems… exhausted.

Lord knows that I barely slept at all when Spike stayed with me. Xander's a young man, but even his stamina can't take helping you on your missions, and working construction, and getting over a painful breakup, and taking on the responsibilities of a rather demanding-"

"Housevamp," Buffy finished. "Maybe you're right, Giles. I don't want him getting hurt. Or even just getting fired. I thought he seemed a little out of it because of the whole split with Anya. But now that you're mentioning it, maybe taking Spike out of the Harris residence is the best solution to getting bouncy Xander back." She paused. "Thanks."

"For what?" He smiled fondly at her.

"For looking out for all of us. For taking care of us. You do it so much, and all the time too, maybe we forget to tell you that we notice."

Giles suddenly looked very interested in polishing his lenses with his handkerchief. Then he looked up and nodded briefly. "Of course."

The two of them stood grinning goofily at one another for a moment. "Okey-doke," Buffy chirruped finally. "Time for me to go beddy-bye, and tomorrow we start looking for new arrangements for the Fangless Menace."

"Good night, Buffy. Do be careful walking home."

" 'Course!" She waggled her fingers at him, and slipped out the door.

**********

Xander whistled as he let himself in. Time for bed, time for sleep, he repeated sing-songily in his head all the way home after dropped Willow off at the dorm. He was finally used to sleeping alone in his bed now that it had been a few months since Anya's departure. Now he was in a new place, new bed, and he wasn't even sleeping on his “side" anymore, just sprawled out wantonly in the middle of the king-sized mattress.

So he was really looking forward to crashing, he thought as he slipped off his shoes in the hallway. He straightened up, and headed into the common room. He looked to the left automatically to see if Spike's door was closed, or if the vampire had headed out for some demon-fighting action. That was when the first yellow missile flew past his head.

"What the-"

He managed to duck the second airborn twinkie, but only realized what exactly Spike was lobbing at him when the third one hit him on his shoulder. "I just bought those!" Xander exclaimed, more concerned in the moment for his snacks than the fact that Spike had decided to throw said snacks at him. "Damn value box," Xander screamed as he realized that Spike had just used his vamp speed to hurl what seemed like eight twinkies at him at once. One hit the bridge of Xander's nose, another landed behind his head, another oozed into two parts when it hit his collarbone and squished inside his shirt.

"I'm not!" hurl "your bloody" lob "pet, you wanker" toss throw launch.

Two sponge cakes hit Xander in his gut, and then three hit him in the crotch in rapid succession.

"Huh? What? You're not my what now?" Xander stopped shielding his face and groin with his arms, seeing as how Spike seemed to have run out of twinkies. He ducked just in time to avoid the empty twinkie box, but shrieked "Truce! Truce!" when he saw Spike eyeing the box of brown-sugar-frosted Pop Tarts.

Spike leaned on the kitchen counter, his face hard and cold. Suddenly he looked cheerful. "Hey, I can throw twinkies at you without setting off the chip! I wonder, 'cause they're soft, or is it all things in the food category? Or more like the toxic crap category."

"Now hold just a gosh-darned minute" Xander stopped with his finger raised, realizing he was about to defend the deliciousness and goodness of twinkies to the vampire. He threw up his arms and paced for a moment or two. Then he sank down onto the couch.

Spike slammed himself into sitting position on the other end of the couch. He cast hateful glances at the brown-head resting in Xander's hands. "Spike, you mind explaining-"

"M'notyer bleedinpet." Spike spat out.

"My pet?" Xander looked genuinely confused and for a moment Spike almost relented. Then he remembered what this was about, and stood his ground.

"Let's see…work, brain, work…what was the last thing-was it this morning? Or was it…why am I trying to think about this like it makes sense?" Xander turned doubtfully to his assailant of a moment ago, realizing that unfortunately the crazy towhead was the only one in the room with the information explaining the attack. "You gotta help me out here, man, 'cause I don't have a freakin' clue what you're talking about."

"Oh, sure you don't, nummy," Spike accused him. "You've been buying me blood, sure, but I happen to know for a fact that those Rolling Stones don't just show up here. And the bath oil? What gives you the right? And how dare-I'm supposed to steal money out of your wallet to buy cigarettes; you're not supposed to bring 'em home to me like a prezzie!"

Xander leaned forward in what he hoped was a placating manner. He placed his hand on Spike's arm and nodded at him to show he meant no harm. Then he lost it. "Have you really gone insane?" he yelped in the most comforting shriek he could muster.

"Don't you try to change the subject, now," Spike snarled, then looked blankly at Xander.

"And that subject is…your status as Slightly Naughty kitten or Big Bad cougar?" Xander asked, his voice growing in volume once more. "What is your deal, Fangless? I get the new place, I don't even think about where you're going to go, I just assume you're coming with. Am I a fucking idiot-the one bedroom would have been cheaper. And a lot less-" he gestured at the twinkies littering the floor "-vampy destructo battle field. Christ, you'd think you'd thank me for picking you up stuff once in a while. Not like you ever get me anything, right? And my pet? I have no idea where the hell that came from. If anything, we're roommates, and if we're even that by the end of the week, then I owe you another five bucks. Because I'm not going to put up with this kind of shit."

Spike sank back to the couch as Xander spun on his heel and slammed himself into his bedroom. "Oh, good one, Spike!" he muttered to himself. "Nicely done." Then he grabbed his duster and stalked out the door. Maybe he’d been the one to mess things up, but damned if he was going to stay here tonight.


	3. Sundays With Giles

Xander shuffled into the common room at 11am and glanced down curiously to see what he had stepped in. "Okaaaay," he mouthed silently as he saw creamy white filling covering his heel. He stood for a moment in his boxers and faded Johnny Cash t-shirt and swayed until various things began to dawn on him.

"Oh, fuck!" He darted back into the hall and pounded on Spike's door.

"What're you doing in there, you crazy bloodsucker? Get out here so we can talk. Okay? Spike? Um…Spikey?" Xander peeked into the room, and realized Spike wasn't there.

"Oh, man. Where could he - what if he - Damn it, why'd didn't I just - Christ-where's it - Hello?" He paced up and down the hall worriedly, and reached a hand out automatically to pick up the receiver when it rang.

"Hi, Will…Yeah, well, there is something wrong…Do you happen to know where the hell Spike has gone to?"

He nodded uselessly at her exclamations, and cut in to explain the situation as quickly as he could.

"Don't you worry, Xander," Willow said fervently after he had finished. "He's somewhere licking his wounds and sulking right now. Right this moment, he's regretting being such a grumpy vamp. Right now, he's probably kicking himself for being so 'Oh, I'm so Bad, I can yell at anyone I want, tra la la!' Right this very minute - Oh, fuck. We are soooo late for the Scooby meeting."

"Okay, Will - maybe Buffy and Giles will have some ideas anyway. See you there in a few?" Xander eased the phone down and headed back to his room to rustle up some jeans.

On his way out, he paused to take in the scene once more. He bent down to pick up three broken twinkies, shrugged, and shoved one cake into his mouth. "Eleven hour rule," he observed to himself as he slammed the door behind him.

**********

Willow sat on Giles's couch, delicately cramming a jelly donut into her mouth. You had to move fast for the jelly donuts in this group, yessirree. Giles had smiled with only a twinge of annoyance at her when she had arrived for the meeting late, but he and Buffy had clearly waited for the stragglers before they began the business at hand.

Outside Giles's door, there was a funny scuffling noise, and Willow shrugged when Buffy looked inquiringly at her. Then the girls heard an oddly manly shriek, a blustering "Cor!" and a hard shove of someone's back against the front door.

"Shall I?" Giles asked evenly, and opened the door to allow a squabbling pile of Spike-and-Xander to fall to the entryway floor.

"Well!" Buffy exclaimed brightly. "This is a much better lead-in than I could have hoped for." She scrunched down and easily separated the two men, and smoothly dragged Xander over to a chair by his right elbow. She patted his arm, ignoring the "Yipe!" and scowl that she got in return.

Spike roared to his feet and held his head like it was about to pop off. "That's what I'm talking about!” he accused. “Can go out any time I goddamn please, now, can't I? Stupid, sodding arse."

"Give me a heart-attack why don't you! For all I know you were lying in the dirt somewhere! For all I know someone was lying in the dirt that used to be you! Haven't you ever heard of calling?"

"You do realize that you're talking at me like you're me mum, don't you?" Spike huffed, and rubbed his head pitifully.

"Enough!" Giles shouted. They both froze. "Why don't you both get settled so that we may begin?" he continued calmly, steering Spike to a chair next to Xander's. The two looked at one another angrily, then with faces of dim realization. Both of them turned back towards the others.

"Um…how come I get the feeling that we're the number one agenda item today?" Xander looked up at Buffy holding his elbow, and he cringed a bit.

"Xander, I think that of all the thankless tasks you've done for the slaying cause over the years, Spike has probably taken the cake, huh?"

"Uh…snack cake?" Xander inquired. Spike snickered, but quickly shifted his face back to "mad as hell."

"Things have been so busy lately, what with defusing the Embler Sorcerer's last spell, tracking the Vgzorith demons, and, well, midterms that we haven't had time to talk about…other arrangements for Spike here." Buffy stopped and glared at the bleached vamp on the other side of her friend.

"But that stuff's all settled for now, and it wasn't even until Giles and I thought about the fact that you'd actually moved Spike into your first apartment with you that we realized. This wasn't supposed to be a full-time gig for you.”

"Seriously Xander,” Buffy continued, “we just wanted to thank you for looking after His Chippedness, and give you some good news. We've found a new living situation for Spike!"

Xander and Spike looked at each other. Neither one of them seemed sure how to proceed.

"What sort of situation?" Xander asked slowly. Spike looked angry, and upset, and curious all at once.

"Well, Willow asked around, and we found this really nice demon, Clem. Kind of a shaggy skinned guy? Anyway, he's pretty much harmless, though he can definitely defend himself if he needs to. He and a bunch of other non-threatening demons got thrown out of a warehouse they were squatting in, and he needs a new place. When I asked him if he would take a vamp for a roomie, he was worried, but then when I told him about the chip he seemed more cool with it. And Spike, he seemed really excited about getting you in on some weekly poker game that he has going. He doesn't care if you smoke, he doesn't care if you vamp out, and he seems to be a flexible dude, so I don't think he'll care that you're, like, the most annoying vampire we know. Plus, you even get an official two-week eviction notice. Xander won't have to put up with you for much longer, and you and Clem'll settle back into your old crypt after that. Sounds good, right?"

"How's Spike supposed to get his blood?" Xander asked. Giles raised his eyebrows, for he thought surely Spike would have asked that question.

"Well, we'll all pitch in and get him some - we'll keep it at Giles, since he'll come by anyway for regular meetings." Willow said reasonably. She hadn't known much about this plan other than tracking down the vamp-friendly demon, but once Buffy started explaining it sounded okay to her. Now Xander could leave off his vamp-sitting duties.

"How's Spike supposed to take baths?" Xander asked. Giles's eyebrows shot up so high at this latest inquiry that Spike grimaced.

"Well, the crypt isn't so much with the plumbing, but I guess - wait a sec. Stop. Spike takes *baths* ?" Buffy asked, then giggled helplessly.

"How's Spike supposed to listen to his CDs? He won't have electricity in the crypt." Xander looked to Willow.

"Maybe Oz can help us run a line in. It shouldn't be too hard," Willow responded.

"How's Spike supposed to-"

"Will you shut your bleeding trap?" Spike shouted, and they all turned to look at him.

“I’ll worry about myself! You know what?” Spike laughed mercilessly. “Way I see it, you lot are doing me the best favor anyone’s ever done. Back on my own, away from prying and breathing down my neck. Best thing for me. I owe you all a round.” He nodded smugly and sagely as he walked to the entryway, as if the whole thing was going according to plan.

They all sat in silence after Spike slammed the door hard enough to splinter it.

Buffy slipped onto the couch next to Willow. She turned cheerfully to Xander, who seemed—unhappy? Buffy frowned. Where was the glad? The relief from the burden that was Spike lifted from his shoulders?

Xander cleared his throat.

Willow turned towards him seriously, then her face lightened in a way that made Xander back away a few inches without realizing it. “What now—” he began warily.

“You need a new roommate.”

“What? Did I have an old roommate? Spike was more—around, and now…”

“Two bedrooms.” Willow said it firmly as if it obviously signified something. “And you could quit taking on extra hours on the weekends and volunteering for special projects to make up the rent you’re carrying.”

“I don’t know even how—who do we even know? How is it supposed to work?” Xander’s questions came out sounding pathetic even to him. Girls, girls, girls…surrounded by women, not like the fantasies some guys had about harems and playboy bunnies, but fussing, cooing, nagging just-friends. He couldn’t come up with a guy friend at this moment if someone held a gun to his head.

“Oooh! I know this one!” Buffy raised her hand. “You take out an ad in the Sunnydale Union, you interview roommates, you pick some guy who isn’t a psycho and isn’t going to bother you about your going out at weird hours, and viola! Extra rent-cash back in your pocket.”

They all look at her blankly for a moment. “What, I can’t know practical things?” she pouted.

“It would give you a sort of financial cushion, Xander,” Giles remarked. “Also, this would provide someone to help you look after the place. Take some weight off the situation.”

Xander realized that this was about more than Spike, that the other three were all sorts of worried about him, and when did that become something they put on the table so that he could see it?

“Xander.” Willow said it in a warning voice.

“Fine!” He gestured with his hands high in the air, as if he were a puppet and they were pulling the strings. “Sunnydale Union. Ad. Interviews. Someone new to yell at when the milk is all gone.”

And Willow already had a pen and pad of paper out, and Buffy’d helpfully suggested that Xander jack up the other half of the rent so that “you’re getting some bang for your buck,” and blushed prettily when Xander and Willow looked at her like she was seriously wack. Giles put the kettle on, made tea unobtrusively, and soon they were all eating biscuits and chattering, and Xander was already used to the idea of a new roommate as if it was something he came up with himself.

*****


	4. A Guy Who Doesn’t Smell

Of course, the interviews were by committee. The prospective candidates were marched in front of the panel on the couch made up of a perky blond with a whiff of “fuck-off” around the edges of her smile, a babbling redhead with penetrating questions, and a brunette who slumped miserably at his end of the sofa and sometimes sat with his head in his hands as the nominees were quizzed about their feelings on smoking, recycling, and chore wheels.

Some of the guys were freaky (“Looks like he’s been living in his parents’ basement” Xander commented at least once—entirely without irony), some were scary (Buffy started making a separate list of those names under the heading “potential problems—watch for obits” in a notebook) and some were so awkward that even Willow rushed to end things with a hearty “well, now!”

Spike was still there, making the most of his two weeks by playing the stereo at inconvenient hours and leaving splatterings of blood in the microwave. He’d scared off his fair share of prospective roommates, though he’d mostly sulked in his room after Buffy brightly offered to break his toes one by one.

Finally it was the last day of the two weeks, and Xander paced nervously in the kitchen as Spike rounded up the last of his things and a good number of Xander’s things. The girls were murmuring on the couch, and more applicants were due to start knocking any minute.

“What about that one?” Willow had the master list and she was pointing out names in the “maybe” column to Buffy.

“No, not *that* one.” Buffy wrinkled her nose. “He’s icky—and those boots.”

“Mmm. Then this?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Didn’t his nose make a funny whistling sound?”

Willow looked at her blankly for a moment, then shuddered. “Guh. You’re right. He won’t do at all.”

Buffy leaned over the list and pointed her way down. “Nope. No. And, no! Ewww. Negative. That one, well?”

“No,” Willow said firmly. “That guy was a big old misogynist, and anti-magick at that. He kept saying ‘bitches’ and then thought he was being all sensitive when he changed it to ‘witches.’ Jerky jerk.”

“Hey, I have a radical idea. Hey, here’s a thought. Hey!” Xander had started quietly, but ended in a shriek when it was clear that the girls weren’t tuning in. “How about I take the list, I’m the one who says yes and no, I’m the one who asks the questions, and I’m the one who makes the decision. Damn, it’s my fucking apartment, and I’m the one who’ll have to live with the choice.”

Willow and Buffy looked at each other with knowing glances.

“Touch-chy.”

“I guess someone’s still a little mad that we got rid of his mayonnaise jars.”

“Those were perfectly good jars!” Xander hissed furiously. “They make good glasses! If I want to drink out of mayonnaise jars, then that’s my busi—”

“Now, Xander.” Buffy smiled at him patiently. “We’re going to get you new jars—I mean, glasses, real honest-to-god drinking glasses—if your new roommate doesn’t already have some.”

“What new roommate? Or am I missing something here? ‘Cause so far, doesn’t seem like anyone has passed inspection.”

Willow looked thoughtful. “That is true. Hmmmm. Well, we just want someone right for you, sweetie. And even if it has to take another two weeks for us to come and interview your prospectives, then that’s just what it’ll take.”

“No way! No two more weeks of this! We’re finding someone today.” Xander brought his palm down flat on the island counter. Then he sighed. “I know you all are trying to help. I really really get it. But you’re not marrying me off, okay? All’s I ask is that the guy doesn’t—”

“Smell. Leave his socks on the couch. Mess up my comics. Eat all my junk food. Come and stand over me at night and stroke my hair while I’m sleeping.” The girls ticked off the five requests in unison as they counted on their fingers in identical gestures.

“The last one still makes me giggle,” Willow confided to Buffy cheerfully.

“Fine. Fine! Who’s up next?”

Three more rejects and several eye-rollings from Xander later, and they had two more left on the list.

Nathan was the penultimate appointment, and he seemed generally agreeable. He shuffled in amiably wearing baggy carpenter’s pants, a pilly green sweater, and, from Buffy’s reluctant nod, acceptable sneakers. He made Willow laugh when he described the last place he’d looked at (“Man, it was like the wall was covered in cranberry sauce, the floor was covered in broken glass, and the realtor’s all ‘have some imagination,’ and I’m all ‘Nobody has that much imagination, dude.’ ”), and he made Xander sit up and take notice when he asked how Xander might feel about him hanging his Seven of Nine posters up in the living room. Even Buffy had joined in the friendly chorus of “we’ll let you know by tomorrow” when he waved at them enthusiastically, and took off down the hall whistling the Weezer “Sweater Song.”

“Gentlemen, I think we have a winner.” Buffy gravely announced, and rang an imaginary bell.

“He’s sweet!” Willow agreed with Buffy. “Xander?”

“I like him.” Xander said it firmly. The two girls nodded, pleased, and Buffy started to put the cap on her red pen and close her “potential problems” page in her notebook.

Just then the buzzer rang. Buffy glanced at her watch and grimaced. “Okay, guys, one more, and then we’ll be done, and you can call Nathan tomorrow.”

The last guy’s name was Davy (“Like Davy and Goliath,” Willow had snickered when she wrote his name on the list), and Xander narrowed his eyes at the newcomer a little and looked worriedly at the girls. Because Davy was dreamy.

“So, Davy,” Buffy smiled, leaning forward and skimming her hand over her calfskin boots. “What do you do?”

“Well, I work for an interior designer. Kind of like an apprentice. I’m studying that field, actually, at UC Sunnydale, working on my Master’s.”

“So you’re a decorator?” Willow asked. Her eyes trailed over his black jeans, black cashmere sweater, black belt, and (Buffy pursed her lips) really kickin’ black boots.

Davy laughed. “Not exactly. The interior design has more to do with corporate and commercial space—working with architects to develop plans and layouts for interiors while they work out structural and engineering issues. Lots of the ideas come from the architects, but the designer works with some knowledge of the mechanics on the aesthetic side of the interior.”

Xander kicked a little at lint on the carpet and braced himself for the conversation he was sure they were going to have afterward. This guy seemed fine, nice really, but Nathan seemed like the kind of guy he’d choose for a pal. The kind of guy he could watch kung-fu movies with at 3am. This guy—Xander wasn’t so sure this guy had even heard of Chow Yun Fat. But again, dreamy Davy, and the rest of the committee might give him more points for yumminess.

“—your last living situation?” Willow asked as she moved on with the set list of questions.

“Relationship ending.” Davy gave a short laugh, though it was clear he didn’t find it too funny. “It’s fine, it’s friendly, but I want to be living elsewhere, and I kind of can’t afford to live on my own right now with my tuition bills.”

“Sure of course,” Xander said quickly. He couldn’t care less about the relationship thing, and he just wanted to finish the interview quickly so they could finally order in some dinner and figure out where Nathan’s posters could go. But from the way the girls leaned forward, he could tell that they were interested.

“Oh, I’m really sorry.” Willow said genuinely, then started forward just a little and continued when Buffy jabbed her thigh. “So had you been dating her for—”

“Him, actually.” Davy said it mildly.

Buffy blinked. “Oh. Oh! Well that’s cool and all. I mean, not about the breakup and the moving, but about the person being a him and all. I mean, well, not like it needs to be cool, but hey, you know, well, with the—ow! Hey!”

Xander smiled easily at Davy as he patted Buffy’s shoulder affectionately and pinched her upper arm really hard to get her to stuff it. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react to the guy-guy thing. He’d never had a gay roommate before, but then he really hadn’t had any roommates before, because the evil undead steam-bath-vamp didn’t really count. However, it didn’t much matter because he’d pretty much decided on Nathan already. The main thing was that they not seem like a bunch of dorks to this guy Davy, who certainly didn’t deserve to be embarrassed about his significant others. Though Davy didn’t look embarrassed, he just looked a little amused, and maybe a little relieved now that Willow and Buffy were leaning back and no longer eyeing his shoulders and biceps appreciatively.

“Do you have a lot of furniture, or stuff you’d need to bring?” Xander asked.

It was the next question on the list, anyway, and it seemed better if they just get on with the interview. Buffy looked at Xander gratefully for taking the floor, pinched his arm just a little (now that’s going to leave a Slayer-strength mark) and then turned back to Davy.

“Not really. Most of the stuff was shared—” he smiled apologetically.

“That’s fine—I mean, as you can see the living room isn’t huge, and I’ve already got a couch and stuff. And hey, plus, because if you moved in here we’d only have to help you lift boxes instead of coffee tables and steamer trunks and crap.”

“Xan-derrrr,” Willow scolded, then grinned goofily at Davy.

“Right—so do you want the grand tour? We’re pretty much done with the questions part, and we’ll probably call people back tomorrow, so that’s what’s left, unless you have anything you want to ask.” Buffy gestured for Davy to stand.

After they’d shown Davy the rest of the apartment, which took about five minutes, and promised to let him know by tomorrow, the three of them sat back on the couch and looked back at the now-empty chair. Willow snapped her binder shut, and smiled at the other two.

“Okay, Xand—I think you’re in the enviable position of having to choose between the last two guys.”

“I vote Davy.” Buffy said decisively. “He seemed interesting, the interior design thing sounds cool, he dresses really well, so that could only be a good influence on Xander,” and here she moved just out of pinching range, “and he looks un-smelly.”

Willow looked to Xander. “Either one, I think—Buffy’s right about Davy, and I liked Nathan a lot, though he might be more likely to delve into your snack cakes. Plus he seemed like the kind of guy you’d like to hang with. I mean, Nathan, not Davy.”

“Well, why wouldn’t Xander want to hang with Davy?” Buffy argued. “I’m balancing Star Trek versus Trading Spaces here, and why would Xander want to live with someone just like Xander? He already lives with himself,” she concluded reasonably.

Xander waved his hand with finality, and said simply “I’ll call Nathan tomorrow, and if he’s interested, I’ll see if he can move in soon.” The others nodded, then nodded more vigorously when Xander asked that age-old important question: “Who wants pizza?”

They all turned when they heard a sharp rap at the door and Xander moved to answer it.

"I thought that was everyone," Buffy accused Willow, who pointed defensively at the list.

"It was everyone. See? Ends here. Ended."

Xander pulled open the door to find a very confused looking Davy. "What's up?" Xander asked. "Did you forget something, man? Or did you think of a question?"

Davy shook his head, and then laughed as his face relaxed. "I did have one question I forgot to ask — which one of you lives here again?"

"That'd be me." Xander said in an irritated voice. He was so looking forward to this process being over.

"Okay." Davy blinked, sort of glanced over at the girls, and then asked in a dramatic stage whisper, "How often are they over here, anyway?" Xander grinned.

"Davy, I'm taking back my vote for you if you're not going to play nice." Buffy warned as she rummaged in the cabinets in search of nacho cheese sauce and chips.

"I should probably watch out for that one, huh?" Davy whispered loudly in a conspiratorial manner. Willow giggled.

"More than you know, man." Xander sighed. They smiled at each other for a moment. Davy stuck his hand out, and Xander shook it. They nodded at each other; Davy waved at the girls, and took off.

"Pizza pizzapizza! So mote there be! Pizza pizza pizzapizza!" Willow chanted.

"Cut it out, Will" Buffy said around a mouthful of fake cheese and corn chips. "Last time you did that the pizza guy ended up teleporting into the shower with the water on. I'm not eating soggy pepperoni again, and I'm sure Xander doesn't want to give up more dry tee shirts for the cause of damp delivery guys everywhere. Right, Xand?"

Xander just looked thoughtfully at the door.

**********

Xander poked his head in Spike’s room—the empty room—around 9am. Of course, Spike had had to take off early this morning before sun-up, but Xander had kept to himself in his room until now. He didn’t have much of a good reason why he’d waited the extra hours, like he was nervous to find out if the vamp had cleared out for sure. But if Spike didn’t want to be his roommate, and if Buffy and the crew had decided he no longer had to babysit him . . . Well then, damn it, in that case Spike wasn’t a guest or a friend, and Xander sure as hell didn’t have to wave at him from the door or pack him a lunch for the trip to the crypt.

Around noon Xander decided he might as well try Nathan. For some reason he had been putting off calling his first choice candidate, even though the decision had seemed so clear yesterday.

"Hey, yeah, is this Nathan? This is Xander from yesterday. The apartment on the west side?"

"Oh hey, dude!" Nathan exclaimed. "Listen, I was just about to call you—"

"Really? 'Cause I wanted to tell you I'd like you to move in as soon as you can."

Nathan cleared his throat. "About two hours ago, that would have been the best news I'd heard all month. But around 10am my realtor phoned to tell me that I got a one-bedroom apartment that I had put a bid on a month ago. They had this whole application process, and it took a while for them to get back to her with the approval. It's a great price, and I'll be able to live on my own, finally."

"Oh, well . . . okay. Glad you got your own place." Xander tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"Thanks, man. But, hey, we should hang out! 'Specially since I'm getting a new TV set delivered in a couple of days—one of those flat screen things—and my mom gave me the newest X-files DVD release. I'll probably be all set up for visitors in a week or something. And maybe you can loan me one or two of the UltraMan videos I saw on your shelf?"

They chatted for ten more minutes, finally settling on plans to meet up at the Bronze and shoot some pool in a few nights. Xander felt pleased, even though the living plans still weren't settled. He hadn't really had a guy friend for a while, not counting all of the different boys that hung around Buffy and Willow. It would be great to spend some time with Nathan.

He turned his attention back to the phone in front of him. He drummed his fingers on the table, and muttered "Looks like we're down to Davy and Davy. Maybe I should flip a coin?" He consulted Willow's list, and punched in the number.

"Davy? Yeah, Xander, from the . . . oh, okay. No, I just wasn't sure how many places you'd looked at, if you'd remember me. . . oh, well. Thanks. Um . . . so would you still want to move in here? I'd like to offer you the spot . . . Really? That sounds great . . . Do you need any help? If you don't mind the girls around, we should get Buffy to pitch in . . . Yeah, I know she looks small, but . . . you hit it on the nail, man . . . you're right, she is slightly dangerous. And a hell of a lifter. Hmmm? Tomorrow should be fine. Oh sure . . . you're welcome. It's no prob—stop thanking me, man. You must be glad to get out of that place you're staying in now . . . Right. At noon then. I'll get the second set of keys ready before that. See you . . . You're welcome, okay? Sheesh. Bye.”

Xander hung up the phone, then picked it up again to press *one* on the speed-dial. “Will, guess who's moving in tomorrow? Nope. Guess again. Come on, now you have a 100 percent shot of getting it right . . . Good one! And for that, you get the much-vaunted prize of helping me help Davy move in tomorrow. Uh huh. I knew you’d be pleased.”

He finished chatting with Willow, clicked the receiver, and pressed *two* on the speed dial. “Buff, guess who’s moving in tomorrow?

**********

As Davy had promised, they mostly had to help him with boxes rather than furniture. When Davy worried that his many boxes of design and architecture books would prove too heavy, Willow and Xander distracted him by showing him the fuse box and quizzed him about how many kitchen towels and wooden spoons he’d brought to the apartment, while Buffy easily carted that set of boxes inside.

Davy didn’t seem to mind that the girls stayed around to watch movies after. In fact, he didn’t appear concerned that Buffy and Willow were over a lot of the time in the days following. As an added plus, he seemed fairly gracious about the fact that sometimes Xander came in noisily at 2am or later. At least, he hadn’t complained to Xander’s face, and he hadn’t asked any questions. Good thing, too, because Xander didn’t want to have to hold forth on all things hellmouthy all the time.

And all of that was good, because on other fronts Xander had been right about Davy. No kung-fu at 3am. And Davy didn’t seem to partake of the same food groups Xander did. He actually cooked things he bought fresh, and he seemed happy to share. That was different. They didn’t really like the same music or movies, but hey, no blood on the counter, no peroxide leaking from the sink to bleach out the bathroom rug, and no New York Dolls blasting forth on the stereo at all hours. Everything seemed fine.

So Xander put together Davy’s futon frame for him on the day he moved in, and made Davy a set of CD holders with extra lumber from the site a week later. And Davy baked lasagna, and laughed at all of Xander’s jokes, and talked animatedly about design and always remembered to ask about the latest developments at the site where Xander worked.

A week, week and a half, two weeks went by. As far as Xander could tell, this was all normal roommate stuff. Davy and Xander got along fine. Buffy and Willow congratulated themselves. Giles seemed less worried about Xander. Everybody agreed that this worked well. Well, everybody except Spike. And Michael.

More on Michael later. As for Spike . . .

It was almost a week into the new living situation. When Davy returned home after running out to buy milk and paper towels, he walked in to find some blonde guy arguing with Xander. Davy entered the room gingerly—this man seemed different from Xander’s other friends. Maybe it was the fact that he was a guy—Davy had only seen girls around Xander—or maybe it was because the blonde was wearing butter-smooth black leather pants and a tight black t-shirt—or maybe it was because he appeared to be backing Xander into a corner, his face inches from Xander’s as they fought heatedly.

As near as he could make out the fight was about who owned the French Connection DVD. Or was it a stand-off over who had broken the videocassette of the Power Puff Girls movie? By the time he set the shopping bag on the counter, the floor seemed to have opened to all contentious topics. Popcorn was all over the living room floor, and there was a weird smell in the air, almost like a whiff of a slaughterhouse.

“You don’t even own a fucking DVD player!” Xander yelled in exasperation at the blonde, who resolutely ignored him, and squatted down to flick through the vinyl LPs that were in a milk crate on the floor. “And you cannot take back the White Stripes album. It was a gift. From you to me! Remember gifts? You present them to the recipient, and then you Can’t! Have! Them! Back!!!” Davy gaped for a moment at the scene that was about to explode, then turned in the hall to head to his room and close the door.

There was a brief tussle that Davy could hear even after he had retreated. There was some more shouting . . . a weird yelp and a crash . . . then a deadly silence . . . then a shriek followed by . . . laughter?

Somehow the scene in the other room had turned funny, and Davy peered out into the living room to find out why.

Xander was lying on his back on the floor next to the kitchen island, howling and shrieking as the slim blonde with a jagged scar on his eyebrow tickled him mercilessly.

“Like that, don’t you, pet?” the blonde taunted, and dove in for more torment.

Davy stepped out into the hall, turned his head to the side and frowned. “Um, everything okay in here?”

The two men on the floor paused mid-grope and turned their faces up to him like everything was absolutely simpatico.

“Yeah, we’re cool—what’s up?” Xander replied curiously. Davy looked at the popcorn on the floor, the weird red spill on the counter, and at the ripped t-shirt on Xander, which hadn’t been ripped when Davy had come in the door fifteen minutes ago.

“Oh. Nothing? I, uh, hi. I’m Davy.” Davy held out his hand automatically, then took it back uncertainly.

The blonde man turned himself over in one lithe movement, and lounged back, his shoulders and head propped on Xander’s stomach. He looked at Davy up and down coldly as Xander panted beneath him and tried to wiggle out from under him.

“Right. Well, I’m off, whelp.”

With a quick smack to Xander’s thigh (“Hey!” Xander protested, immediately rubbing the spot), and a derisive sneer at Davy, the man leapt effortlessly to his feet and slid gracefully out the front door.

Davy looked at the door for a minute, and turned back to look at Xander, who was still gasping and snuffling a little on the floor from the giggle fit. “Uh, and that was?”

“Oh. That was Spike. Haven’t you met Spike?” Xander asked reasonably, as if everyone in town knew who Spike was. “He was my—uh—roommate—well, he lived here, anyway, before you moved in.” Xander appeared to give up in the middle of his attempt to rise into a sitting position, and sprawled bonelessly out on the floor. “Oh, man! I haven’t laughed like that in a while.”

“Yeah,” Davy said uncertainly. “Well, I guess I’ll get back to my reading.”

“Sure,” Xander agreed absently, stretching out a little on the floor and yawning.

When Davy returned to the room an hour later, Xander was gone, the popcorn had been disposed of, the smell was effectively masked, and the counter was spotless. And Spike, of course, was long gone. Except that now Davy had met Spike, he wasn’t so sure about that part. Because Spike had looked at Davy very much like Davy had crashed some kind of private party in the apartment, and Davy felt a little less settled in.

The next day, everything seemed the way it had been before, and Davy went back to working on his semester project and putting in hours at the design firm.

He had intended to raise the topic of Spike with Xander, but he wasn’t exactly sure what questions he could ask someone he had only known for such a short time. Best to leave things alone, then, he thought. Just wait and see what would happen.


	5. Willow Talk

“Well, if I’ve said it once I’ll say it a hundred times. There’s almost no kinda tension that a good tickle fight can’t solve.”

“You speak the truth, Will.” Xander shifted the phone from one ear to another, and held the receiver in place with his shoulder. He tossed a burrito into the microwave and set the timer. “It’s weird, but it felt funny that things seemed to end badly with Spike moving out of here. I’m glad he came over yesterday.”

“Well, sure,” Willow responded. “I mean, he still has to come to Scooby meetings, and sometimes you’ll have to patrol together. Can’t have everything all, ‘Oh, well I wouldn’t do it that way,’ and ‘shut your trap, ya nonce,’ and ‘who asked you, Billy Idol,’ and ‘I’ll split yer head open with this axe! The three-day migraine will be wurf it!!!’ ”

“Yeah, that was a doozy of a meeting Tuesday,” Xander replied. “I wouldn’t have put tickling high on my list of ways to address the problem, but, hey, whatever works.”

“Plus you’re so tickle-able.”

“Why, thank you. And Will?”

“Yup?”

“What do you think of Davy?”

Willow paused at this shift in the conversation. “Davy? He seems nice, I guess. How have things been going?”

“Fine, I think. We seem to get by okay. Just that he seems a little -- ”

“What?”

“I dunno, down or something. Kinda quiet lately.”

“Well, he did just get out of a relationship, right? That’s gotta be a bit of a downer. Oh, and then there’s the move. My mom says that moving is so high on the list of events likely to cause trauma that . . . well, I think it’s right after death of a loved one or something.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. Has he said anything about the . . . his previous living situation?”

“Honestly, I’d sort of forgotten about it until you brought it up.” Xander took the burrito out of the microwave and dropped it on the floor. Hothothot.

“Hmmm. I guess you could ask him about it, check in to see how he’s doing.”

“Oh, okay. Do I hafta? No, I know the answer to that one. I guess I was just enjoying the day-to-day, no-torturous-subtext phase of the roommate relationship. I don’t know if I want to find out all the crazy stuff in someone else’s life right now.”

“It’s like that Friends episode when Bruce Willis guest stars -- ”

“And Rachel wants him to open up to her, and spill his feelings -- ”

“Yes, and then the weeping commences, and he can’t stop crying.”

“I really am not set up for a weep fest. I don’t think we even have a box of tissues around.”

“Maybe there won’t be so much weeping. Why don’t you just bring it up and see what happens?”

“Okay. Say, what do you think you put on a burrito burn? Hand, not roof of mouth.”

“Guacamole,” she returned quickly.

**********

“Xanderrrrr!!” Buffy paused for a moment in the middle of her door-abusing knocks and listened. “Open up! Come on, I can tell someone’s in there.”

She leaned her ear against the front entryway and straightened up to give the door a good hard kick. “Well, no big, right? If you’re too tired to shuffle on over here and open the door, I’ll just break the lock, ‘kay?”

“Uh, Buffy?” she heard from the stairwell.

Davy was coming up the stairs with some other guy. Equally drool worthy, Buffy noted, but probably also batting for the other team. Davy looked yummy, as always -- a dark green suede jacket that lit up his hazel eyes, worn over jeans that fit him way too well.

Buffy waved lamely at him after she caught her breath. Soooo not fair. All this sexiness completely off limits.

“Hi, Davy,” she began, and then turned to look curiously at the man who accompanied him.

“Michael,” the man told her shortly as he gave her the once over and looked away, bored already.

“Oh. Hi. Um, Davy, can you let me in? Xander has a couple of books of Giles’s -- I mean, of mine -- that I need for . . . class! For class, and I need to get them, pronto.”

“Xander has books of yours?” Davy grinned. “I’ll bet those spines are still intact -- I don’t see him reading much.”

“Well, yeah . . . I mean, you wouldn’t know it, but he’s kind of a closet bookworm,” Buffy improvised.

Michael for some reason seemed to find this amusing. “If that’s all he’s keeping in there . . . ” he trailed off knowingly.

Buffy narrowed her eyes back at him. Not knowing what he was acting all knowing about, she opened her mouth to say something when throat clearing coming from Davy distracted her.

“Well, I’ll let you in. I’m sure it’s not a problem; you can just pick them up. How is school, anyway?”

They entered the apartment together, chattering a bit. Buffy was so occupied with learning where Davy got his jacket and his leather shoulder bag that she didn’t notice Michael sniffing disdainfully at various items in the rooms.

Further conversation was interrupted, however, by a soft padding of feet towards the common room. Xander emerged from his room, running his hand through his hair and yawning, rumpled in a pair of thin boxers and the same ripped t-shirt that Spike had personalized the day before.

He nodded at the three of them, and then stretched his arms lazily over his head, the movement exposing the faint line of hair that curled from his belly button down into his boxers. “Hey,” he croaked out, and grabbed some juice from the fridge. He gave a small smile to the others and rolled his shoulders back a few times.

“Hey sleepy! Come back with me to your room -- I need to get those chronicles and herbals back, and I wanted to give you the scoop on some other . . . stuff.”

Davy and Michael watched as Buffy flounced down the hall and Xander followed after her languidly.

“Hey, Michael?” Davy said softly. “You can shut your mouth now.”

Michael had indeed been standing there with slackened jaw at the sight of Xander, but he turned toward Davy sharply.

“Well, well, well. I guess you weren’t kidding when you told me that you’d found convenient living arrangements.”

“Oh, come off it.” Davy returned. “There’s nothing going on. He’s great, he’s a sweetie, but we hardly even see each other, much less . . . And from what he says, I think he thinks he’s -- ”

“No way. No fucking way is he straight.” Michael flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Yeah, I think so too . . . especially after meeting Spike.”

“Who the hell is Spike?” Michael was starting to look furious, and Davy sighed.

“I don’t really know. He lived here right before I moved in. Xander hasn’t said much about him, but when he was around the other day it seemed pretty clear that they had been messing around. I have no idea where things stand with them, though.”

“Why? Did you hear them fucking or something?”

“No -- crass much? I walked in here and they were having some kind of tickling slash groping session on the floor of the living room.”

Michael smiled maliciously. “Oh, well, maybe you’re too late then. And isn’t that a shame? After you went to all that trouble, acting so available. This is, what, like a prime set-up for you, right? Guy having problems with his boyfriend, you move in, you start cooking for him, you start handing out the comfort and advice, and then you get into his pants?”

Davy flushed in anger, but Michael just went on.

“Unless, hey, maybe you like it more if they’re getting back together? More challenge that way, huh?” He looked back at Davy with disgust apparent on his face. “Geez, how many couples are you going to try to break up?”

“Michael, what the hell are you going on about?” Davy pulled him further into the living room so that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard. “You know damn well that you were more than happy for me to put out for you while you were ‘on a break’ from Gabe. I fucking did *not* mess things up for you. That relationship was messed up way before I moved in there.”

Davy lowered his voice further, and tightened his grip on Michael’s arm. “Look, what’s your problem? You’re the one who wanted to put an end to things between us. Hell, you’re the one who asked me to move out when it seemed like Gabe would give you another shot.”

“Wow, where can I get some of that delusion? ‘I was more than happy for you to . . .’ Christ, you don’t get it at all, do you? God, I was so fucked up about Gabe, you were there all the time, and you wouldn’t stop coming on to me.” Michael shook Davy’s hand off his arm.

“That’s ridiculous,” Davy said briskly. “I know for a fact that you didn’t do anything you didn’t want to do.”

A pained look flitted across Michael’s face, and he turned away. “Look, I came over here, and we talked . . . what more do you want?” He regarded the other man uneasily. “Why don’t you give me the keys back so I don’t have to change the lock?”

Davy just watched him for a moment, shrugged, and went to retrieve the keys from his room.

Buffy and Xander appeared in the hallway. “ . . . anything I can do to help?” Michael heard him ask Buffy.

“We’ve got to get everything set up, but Giles thinks that once he has the books it’ll go off without a hitch. So . . . I think that means we should worry? But seriously, it looks like its magick all the way with this one -- no slaying, no muss, no fuss. Willow says she can zap it tonight -- all you have to do is show up later to be the fourth to complete the rectangle-y energy thingy, and we’ll be done so early we can go catch the Dingoes at the Bronze for the second show.”

When she bounded into the common room, Buffy started as she realized Michael was still there. “Oh, Michael,” she exclaimed. “Hi! You’re probably wondering what we’re . . .”

Buffy trailed off when she saw the scornful look on Michael’s face. “You know what,” she said pointedly, “fuck it. Think whatever you want.” She made a motion of wiping her hands clean.

Davy appeared and silently handed Michael something in an envelope. Michael nodded sharply, and exited the apartment.

Buffy bounced a bit on the balls of her wedge-heeled sandals. Xander yawned and scratched his chest. “Well, see you later Xand,” she said, smiling at him.

Xander nodded at her hazily, and moved down the hallway towards the bathroom.

Buffy gathered up her things, waiting a moment until she heard the bathroom door close. “Oh, and Davy? Your friend seems a little . . . jerky? Maybe you should let him be jerky somewhere that’s else.”

Davy smiled easily at her. “Yeah, you noticed that too?”


	6. Roommates and Relationships

Showered, scrubbed, clad in baggy jeans and a baseball style t-shirt, Xander paused at the door of the apartment. He had a little time before he had to leave, and maybe now would be a good time to see what was up with Davy.

Xander wasn’t really sure what being a roommate entailed, but he wanted to do a good job. Willow had convinced him he was practically morally obligated to find out what was going on with Davy. He didn’t want to be some asshole that was so self-absorbed he ignored someone else’s problems, especially if he lived with the someone else.

“Hey, uh, you busy in there?” he called into Davy’s room.

“No -- hang on,” and Davy opened the door and poked his head out. “What’s up?”

“Wanna sit down out here for a second?”

“Sure,” Davy agreed. He looked a little uneasy.

“I just wanted to . . . I just figured I’d ask how you were doing.”

“I’m fine. Just a little busy with this drafting project, but -- ”

“No, Davy. I mean . . . how you’re doing with . . . other stuff? Relationshippy stuff? Was that guy who was here the one you, uh, were living with?”

“Oh,” Davy said. “Yeah, that was Michael, the guy I’d been seeing. He came over to get his keys.” He looked quickly at Xander, but Xander’s face seemed more concerned than anything else. “I don’t know why I was holding on to them, really. I guess I just . . . ”

“Maybe you thought you might need them again?” Xander inquired.

“Yeah, more like I hoped I would . . . but he’s back together with his old boyfriend. The guy he was seeing before we started messing around. None of it ever should have happened.”

Xander nodded, then opened his mouth to ask something, then stopped.

“What?” Davy asked softly.

“Um, you said before . . . relationship, but then . . . just now, I mean -- ”

“Right. Well, I thought it was a relationship, he thought it was messing around. I wanted something more, but it was just an in-between thing for him, just something to fill the time,” Davy observed bitterly.

“Well, that bites,” Xander replied sincerely.

“That it does,” Davy answered, and then smiled at Xander. “I shouldn’t let it get to me -- I guess I’m drawn to people like that, you know? People who don’t really want me, or, you know, people that will hurt me.”

“Huh.” Xander pulled a neutral face to cover his confusion. Boy, where was Willow when you needed her? She was the one taking first-year psych, after all.

“Well, I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other again. I can’t tell if that’s good or not. I guess you think that’s pretty fucked up, right?” Davy sighed.

“No,” Xander said. He shrugged. “I’ve been in some relationships that have, well, been a little weird. Maybe more about physical stuff than anything else. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what you want in a case like that.”

“Oh,” Davy said, and then glanced at Xander. “Like with Spike?” he asked.

“With Spike?” Xander repeated the question back. “I’m not really sure what he would say to that question. I mean, in terms of me, I was talking about Cordelia, my high school girlfriend. Lots of making out, not so much with the relationship part. Oh, and my last girlfriend, Anya -- I thought we cared for each other, but it was the sex, mainly.”

“How long did it last before you figured out it was just sex?” Davy asked guardedly.

“What? Oh, I don’t think I figured that part out until it was long over. I mean, there was lots and lots of sex. Kind of hard to take stock in the middle of all that,” Xander grinned at him.

Davy smiled back, and then paused before trying again. “I mean, sometimes it can be hard, too, if you live with someone and you’re both attracted to each other. I mean, there they are, there you are. Stuff happens. Do you know what I mean? Has that ever happened to you?”

Xander laughed. “I don’t know about that. But all my relationships did just sorta happen. Maybe it’s good to remember that. Try to make more deliberate choices next time, you know? Hey, maybe we could form a support group. The careful-planning, non-spontaneous-relationship promotion group?”

“Maybe,” Davy replied. It was hard to tell from Xander’s responses whether his questions about the relationship with Spike were grounded in anything or not. The answers didn’t clear up much. “Well, I appreciate you asking about all this. It’s been a tough day.”

“Hey, no problem,” Xander said, spreading his arms magnanimously. “You want to talk about stuff, I’m your man.”

“Thanks,” Davy said softly. “I’ll remember that.”

**********

“Now, Xander, now!” Willow shrieked.

Xander scrambled to drop the horglis root into the glowing bowl in front of Willow, almost knocking her down in the process.

“Back to your station, Xan,” Buffy gasped, pulling his arm to replace him at his corner of the rectangle.

Giles waved his hands at them frantically from the corner across from Xander. “You’ll want to brace yourselves for -- ” Giles shouted, but the warning was a little late. The mixture in front of Willow glowed strongly, and a putrid smell filled the room just before a large *bang* knocked the four of them on their feet.

“Tell me again, why do I shower before I do *anything* with *any* of you?” Xander complained as he tried to shake off the debris that was now raining down from Giles’s ceiling.

“ ‘Cause we don’t want you to smell?” Buffy replied as she darted away from a nasty chunk of something icky falling to the floor.

“Huh. That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Willow’s voice called out meekly. The glowing had stopped, the debris had settled, and Buffy was pulling Xander up while Giles groped at the floor for his glasses.

“Good work with the warning, Giles,” Buffy groused without much animosity.

“Well, of course you know there’s always the risk of something going -- ”

“Horribly, dreadfully wrong?” Willow and Xander finished in chorus.

“Yes, well . . . Despite the debris, I would call this a success. Is everyone alright for the most part?”

Buffy shook the plaster dust out of her hair, and brushed some of the bits of the ceiling off of Willow’s sweater. “I think we’re good, but I’d say we need yummy desserts to make it all better. Right guys?”

“Oh, yummy desserts! We need them stat!” Willow cried out.

“Giles, you up for Bronzing it with us? We can procure all kinds of chocolaty deliciousness there.” Xander flopped his dusty self onto Giles’s clean couch.

“No, no . . . I’d like to stay here and catch up on my notes about the incident, and check on that prophecy that might come due in two months.”

“Oh, well, if your plans are as exciting as *that*,” Buffy offered, and then shrank a little from Giles’s frustrated look.

Willow was shaking out Xander’s coat, which for some reason had gotten the most of the dirt from the icky shower. “Leave Giles alone,” she said in her best Willow-knows-best voice. “If he wants to stay here and do something really dull, we shouldn’t give him grief.”

“Why, thank you Willow,” Giles said dryly. He smoothly shoved a twenty-dollar bill into Xander’s hand to contribute towards the buying of the sweets.

“C’mon, you guys,” Buffy called, already halfway out the door.

“Wait,” Xander yelled, “I’m supposed to call Nathan so that he can come and play pool with us.”

Buffy stopped and looked back blankly.

“Remember? Seven-of-Nine Nathan? With the roommate interviews, and the Weezer whistling Nathan? Nathan of the pilly green sweater?” Willow asked.

“Oh, that *sweater*--right. Have you guys hung out at all since then, Xan?”

“Yeah, he’s a cool guy, Buff. We met once before to hear a band at the Bronze, and one time I went to see his place and we watched a bunch of Alias episodes.”

“Woman-power super-spy show? I approve.” Buffy nodded. “If you’re going to call, make it quick, Xander. It’s getting late, and I want to get a prime people-watching and vamp-spotting table across from the mirror.”

**********

Nathan once again earned favoring nods from Willow and Buffy, and bantered easily with Xander about the badness of the new Jackie Chan film. Once they had arrived unanimously at the decision that nothing could ever surpass Drunken Master, they headed over to the left of the dance floor to play pool.

“We playing for cash?” Xander asked apprehensively. “Because that’s something I don’t have a hell of a lot of right now. Get paid next week.”

“Oh, no way, dude. I have enough for the new apartment, but it doesn’t leave much left over for other stuff, like high-stakes betting with a pool-shark such as yourself,” Nathan said with a grin.

“That’s too bad about the rent -- looks like you should have taken up my offer after all,” Xander said a little smugly. He’d been a tiny bit put out by Nathan’s decision, though he was just mostly glad they could hang out now.

“You might be right at that. How’s the new one working out for you?” Nathan asked as he sank a sweet shot.

“Good thing we’re not betting,” Xander observed as Nathan put away two more primo shots. “The new roommate, Davy? He’s fine. He’s getting over some relationship with some guy, so he’s a little down, I guess.”

“Uh huh.” Nathan replied. “Country-music listening, crying into his beer down?”

“Maybe not that bad,” Xander allowed. He noticed the guy-guy relationship thing didn’t seem to faze Nathan, but then not much did.

“Well, that’s good. And you catch up with your old roommate -- what’s his name, uh --Spike? What’s he up to these days?”

“Oh, he’s okay, I think. It was a little weird after he moved out, but he came by yesterday. We actually got into an argument, but then it transformed into a tickle fight, so I’m guessing we’re cool now.” Xander cast a sidelong glance at Nathan, who chalked unperturbed.

“Important question here—you the tickler or the ticklee?”

“Ticklee, pretty much. That’s usually how it goes with me and tickling. And you’re curious about this why?”

Nathan took a swallow of his coke and set up another shot.

“You look kinda tickle-able,” Nathan observed seriously.

“Uh, that’s what Will said, too.” Xander scowled a little. Looked like he’d hardly get a turn at this game. And since when did everyone go around talking about his tickle-appeal? Not that it wasn’t flattering, but what was up with that?

Nathan leaned over to line up the cue, but Buffy shrieked in laughter in the background at that moment, and he fumbled the shot.

“Aha!” Xander exclaimed as he took over the table triumphantly.

Nathan moved to lean against the wall, waited for Xander to take aim, and then asked casually yet with perfect timing, “So . . . he a good tickler?”

Xander lurched a little, and laughed slightly when he sunk the cue ball. “Tickling is just tickling, right?”

“Nah, though you might think so,” Nathan responded, shaking his head. “Some people are really pokey,” he jabbed his finger into the air for emphasis, “and just go for fast and furious, but some people go for all the right spots and take their time.”

“I guess . . . Spike falls into the latter category?”

“Sure, he sounds like that kind of guy,” Nathan remarked. He rolled the cue ball in his hand for a moment, and then placed it strategically.

Xander sent another prayer of thanks that there were no bets on the table as Nathan quickly finished off the game.

“What happened after?” Nathan asked, waving back at Willow who was frantically waving at him.

“Uh, after. Well, Davy came in, and he seemed kind of uncomfortable, and Spike took off.”

“That’s funny,” Nathan said. He was shaking his head at Willow, smiling as she gestured for him and Xander to join her and Buffy on the dance floor. “So it just ended like that? And you didn’t go see what was up with him after?”

“ ‘What was up with him’ -- I was supposed to do something else?” Xander looked slightly alarmed, and a little red.

“I just mean, hey, you’re on bad terms with the guy, he takes a chance, comes over and reduces you to helpless giggles, but then when he runs off you leave things hanging?” Nathan eyed Xander with curiosity as he wrapped up his question.

“Not seeing where you’re headed with this, pal.” Xander said lightly, but frowned to himself. Maybe he had done something wrong, had messed up some important post-tickling male-friendship ritual of which he wasn’t aware. Because, hey, until recently? Not so much with the guy friends after Jesse.

“I’m just saying, he crossed the gap, and now it’s up to you to reaffirm the gesture. Go to his house and get out the Xbox or Playstation, spark up together, watch monster movies. You know. Solidify the bonds of friendship.” Nathan shrugged, but then looked bemused as he realized that Willow was headed over to them.

“You guys! You’re not even playing anymore, and we need to dance, and you need to help us!” Willow yanked at Nathan’s arm unmercifully.

“Down, Willow,” Xander said absently. Looks like he’d be paying a visit to Spike soon.


	7. Crypt Warming

Xander stood in front of the crypt uncertainly.

He hadn't seen Spike since the other day, what with the lack of patrolling, and he wasn't sure how to start this. It was difficult to say exactly why he wanted to see Spike today --he'd probably catch him in a day or so at Giles', or even run into him at the Bronze.

Maybe it was just that he was so used to seeing him *every* day -- wait, was that the reason it was weird to be just dropping by, or was that the reason he *wanted* to see him? Xander shook his head a little, and kicked at the leaves around the tomb as he paced back and forth a few times.

Maybe he could pretend to be passing by . . . but what exactly would that entail? "Hey, just out patrolling by myself . . . No, I don't have a death wish. Just, uh, stretching my wings, you know? Getting all independent with the slaying?" Okay, even Spike wouldn't fall for him seeming that stupid. Or maybe "Yeah, there've been reports about vengeance demons around these parts, and seeing as yours truly happens to have . . . uh . . . intimate knowledge of said genre of bad girls . . . " Nope. Definitely they'd send Willow out if they needed to mess with power centers. It wasn't like he was just sex on a stick for every vengeance demon that came down the pike. Come to think of it, it wasn't even him that had turned Anya human, though the fact that he'd spent so much time training her to act like one made that hard to remember.

Well, maybe he could just knock? Just say, “hey Spike, thought I'd stop by -- wanna hang out?” Nah. That would be far too simple. Plus, if he was just stopping by, how was he going to explain the bags of blood he’d brought with him?

He hopped up onto a nearby tombstone, and stared balefully at the mausoleum. Banging his heels against the stone, he took a quick survey of his surroundings just to make sure no one was sneaking up on him. His focus on the perimeter explained why he didn't notice a shaggy skinned demon wearing a t-shirt that read "Dale's Demon Den -- Come for the Nachos, Stay for the Ritual Sacrifice!!!" until the demon had poked his head out of the crypt to call out to him.

"Uh, hey! Thought I might've heard something. Are you, uh, Xander?" Clem gave a small wave.

"Yeah. Are you Clem?"

"I am!" Clem cried enthusiastically. "Wow, this is great. I'm not always so good with recognizing humans, but I remember that you're the only guy who hangs out with the slayer all the time. She's a nice girl. Little scary, but nice. Want some Mike's Hard Lemonade?" He gestured into the crypt. "I just picked some up, now that we've got the electrical current going. That guy Oz set us up for power, and now we have a mini-fridge. You know that guy? I don't see him on your, uh, group thingies that much, but he's a cool dude."

Xander smiled despite himself. Clem was a bit -- freaky looking, but he seemed like an okay guy. "Uh, sure. I was just passing through here -- "

"Well come on in, man, come in. You're probably wanting to see Spike, right? He's not around right now -- "

"No, I wasn't looking for Spike especially," Xander commented, though his cheeks flushed tellingly. Xander stepped inside the crypt and looked around.

Clem glanced curiously at him, but then shrugged. "Okay, dude, whatever . . . but he'll probably be home soon. So, like, even if you weren't trying to see him, if you stick around for a bit, you can see him anyway. Even though you weren't looking for him. Okay?"

"Uh, okay." Xander murmured uneasily. Then Clem was hauling out a bag of pizza-flavored Combos, and pressing a drink into his hand, and he got distracted by the demon's questions about Xander's favorite types of cracker-and-pretzel-and-pretzel-related category of snack foods. They were chatting easily when Spike suddenly slipped in through the door.

"Well, then, make yourself at home, Nummy," Spike said only slightly sardonically. "Clem," he added, nodding to his crypt-mate.

"Oh, hey Spike. Wanna drink? You can have one of my Mike's, or I can heat you up some blood." Clem gestured impressively at a banged up microwave balanced precariously on a large rock.

"No, mate. I'm fine." Spike sat on the wobbly chair with care.

“I, uh, brought you some blood. Thought maybe, you needed something fresh?” Xander offered the bag lamely, aware that Clem was examining him with interest. So much for his excuse of just passing through the cemetery.

Spike teetered on the chair, and stopped suddenly. Xander turned a little redder.

“You brought blood?” Spike asked in a low growl.

“Sure,” said Xander with hearty false confidence. “Because of the crypt-warming?” He looked at Clem with pleading eyes.

"Oh, okay," said Clem, and looked a bit closer at each of the other men in turn.

"Oh!" Clem exclaimed, "I just remembered that I have a -- stuff to do and, that the -- stuff -- has to be done at another location!" He fairly leapt to his feet, hustled himself into a parka, and flew out the door.

Spike goggled for a second, and then cracked a small smile. "He's odd, but he's good people."

"Yes," Xander contributed helpfully. He wasn't sure how to start, so he just said the first thing that popped into his head. "Nice to see you the other day."

Spike turned towards him slightly. "Yeah," he said finally.

They sat in silence for a moment. Just as Xander was about to get to his feet, Spike spoke again. "Weird, innit?"

"What's weird?" Xander asked. He hoped it wasn't him showing at Spike's crypt that was the item of weirdness.

"You know, just . . . used to seeing you, until . . . now you're here, and . . . " Spike frowned, and trailed off.

"Oh, right. Yeah. It is weird.” Xander agreed, and then blurted, “Hey, I haven't had to clean blood off the microwave for a whole week."

Spike snorted. "Well, I'm sure your new roomie cleans up after himself real nice." He paused. "Where'd you find that bloke?"

"In the last round of the interviews -- actually, he was the last guy to show. He seems nice. I don't really know too much about him. Just that he broke up with his boyfriend that he was living with, and that's why he needed a place, and why he could move in so fast."

"And you don't . . . have a problem with that?" Spike stared hard at Xander.

"What, with him moving in quickly?"

"No, you grade-A dolt -- that he fancies the lads."

"That!" Xander smiled. "Well, I don't know that many gay guys, but no, I don't think I have any real problem with it. Unless," he continued in a worried tone, "maybe I've been sending out some unconscious ‘uncomfortable with the gay guy’ vibe. Oh no! What if I have some kind of interior wiggins that I don't even sense, and he can pick up on it being gay and all? Crap. Do you think he thinks I'm a big homophobe?"

"Doubt it," Spike replied shortly. "Don't think he'll pick up on some anti-gay thing from you so much as he'll try to chat you up."

"Chat me up?" Xander looked at Spike blankly.

"Come on . . . make a pass, pick you up, try to pull you, invite you up to see his etchings -- "

"Really?" Xander had turned a deeper shade of scarlet. "Why would he do that?"

"Well, you're a nummy treat, aren't you?" Spike replied evenly. He was turned away from Xander as he took a packet of blood out of the fridge, so that the other man couldn't read his sour expression.

"Uh, Spike? I've only had relationships with women. I mean, why would he think that . . . "

The blonde gave a short laugh. "Doesn't have so much to do with thinking, does it now?" He opened the microwave, and set the timer.

"Huh." Xander appeared befuddled. "I think you're probably wrong. I don't think I'm the type of guy that other guys are attracted to, right?" He watched Spike stand up all at once, walk towards the microwave, and then move back to look in the fridge again unnecessarily. "Um, right?"

"Why?"

"Why aren't I that type of guy?"

"Stay on topic, pet. Not why aren't you the type of guy that other guys are attracted to, but why don't you think that you’re that type of guy -- why don't you think you'd be attractive to men?"

"Um. Uh, well . . . um," Xander hemmed and hawed, looking somewhat alarmed.

"Because it's daft to say so. It's something you ought to consider."

"Consider *men*?" Xander squeaked.

"Well, yeah, maybe you ought, at that . . . but I more meant consider that men will try to get in your knickers. What's he been there, about a week? Two? I'm thinking maybe a day or so before he tries something."

"Omigod! What do I do?"

"I imagine that depends on you," Spike said slowly.

"He can't be -- I mean, he can't think that I -- he won't try anything." Xander finished without conviction. He sighed. "Let's not talk about this anymore."

"Fine," Spike cut in. "Why don't we talk about why you put up Buffy to getting me to move out?"

"Huh?” Xander was already thrown by the Davy topic, and now he and Spike were on to the confrontation portion of the visit? When had that happened? “I didn't -- "

"Then why did you?"

"Why did I what?"

"Want me to move out? If you didn't put her up to it, why did you go along like it was a good plan?"

"I didn't want you to move out! It just sort of . . . happened?"

Spike held up his hand. "Look, Xander," he said deliberately. "Not everything just happens. Not all the events in your life are caused by the Hellmouth, or by the great gods of chance. You make choices. I'm asking you why you made this one."

"Wait a second. Hold on. I never heard you protest when Buffy came up with your new room assignment."

"Well, wasn't my apartment, now, was it? What was I, a guest or something? If you wanted me to leave, couldn't very well stay."

"Plus, you were really mad at me," Xander reminded Spike.

"What's that? When?"

"Oh, you remember -- ‘not your bleeding pet,’ accompanied by the hurling of snack cakes."

"Oh, that." Spike scoffed. "Well, you were the one that yelled back and said you'd be surprised if I wasn't your, uh, roommate by the end of the week. What was I supposed to think?"

"I tried to talk to you about it the next morning! But you took off . . . and you didn't even stay there that night! And I was worried -- *worried* -- about you, and you acted like I didn't have the right to ask what had happened."

”So? None of that meant that I wanted to move out. Was just pissed off, is all.”

“Well, I didn’t mean I was going to kick you out or something -- Look, I think I get some leeway here. Can you blame me that I was upset because when I came home beat, you threw an entire box of Twinkies at me?”

They glared at each other for a moment.

Spike snickered first. Xander twisted his lips, but couldn’t help a guffaw slipping through. They stood defiantly, trying to get in control, but then one of them started, the other followed, and pretty soon they were shrieking with laughter.

“Oh, pet, you’re a funny one,” Spike laughed.

“Man, you should’ve seen yourself, lobbing the Twinkies at me – wait, hey, there’s something I never thought about.” Xander shook his head in disbelief at his own carelessness.

“What’s that?” Spike asked, trying and failing to hold himself up against the wall before he sank to the floor in a fit of giggles.

Xander gasped for breath, and struggled to pronounce the words through the laughter. “Unwrapped -- unwrapped Twinkies!! Those are individually wrapped snack-cakes! You took the time to unwrap *each* and *every* one of those things before throwing them at me?” He grasped at his chest and attempted to gain coherency again. “Didja have a little pile ready to go like buckshot on the counter there?”

Spike shook his head, grinning. “You know, I don’t remember. I guess I must’ve. Was just so angry is all.”

“Criminy,” Xander said, and cracked up again. He smiled, and shook himself a little, saying “wooh!” and stretching on the couch. “You’re a trip, man.”

They regarded each other, smiling shyly.

“Well . . . ” Xander said finally. “Guess I’d better . . . ”

“Yeah,” Spike said, disappointed. Then he mentally gave himself a little kick. Surely he was the one who was to say something next? The whelp had come over here and all. Ball in his court, as it were.

“Uh, Xan . . . ”

“Yeah?” Xander asked, looking wide-eyed all of a sudden.

Spike took an unnecessary breath. “Erm . . . pool at the Bronze?”

Xander grinned widely.

“Tuesday?”

“Nine o’clock, pet. And don’t be late.”


	8. Confusing Conversations

Willow sat up and grinned at Oz. He was standing in front of the full length mirror in her dorm room, applying black liquid eyeliner.

“Oooh, it looks nice!” she said admiringly when he turned to blink at her.

“Yeah. It’s okay. We’ll see how it goes, trying out the whole glam thing. Set the Dingoes apart from other bands, you know.”

“Well, I think it’s cool,” Willow replied, bouncing slightly on the twin bed. “Want to wear some of the sparkly powder Buffy and I got last week? You put it on your cheekbones, or across your neck, or wherever.”

“Why not?” Oz smiled amiably, turning to paw through the make-up piled into the wicker basket on the dresser. He swiped some of the shimmery powder onto his collarbone and picked up a tube of something else, examining it closely. “Hey, that dented microwave you found abandoned on the quad green? I dropped it off at the crypt earlier. Clem was pretty psyched.”

“He’s a nice demon,” Willow said distractedly, licking her lips while she watched Oz streak glitter gel under his eyes.

“He’s upstanding,” Oz murmured, stepping back to take in the results. “He said something about making you microwave cookies to say thanks.”

“That’s, uh . . . that’s nice. . . Wow,” Willow breathed softly. “You look . . . hot!”

Oz merely raised an eyebrow, but Willow could tell that he was pleased. She sighed, realizing that she had class soon, and began to gather her books together.

“I’ve got Psych section at 6:30pm, so I better get going. Especially now that I’m taking notes for two, right?” She pointedly made a “hmph!” noise in a high pitch.

Oz seemed more charmed than rankled by her sound. “Yeah. Thanks. Can’t make class again. We’ve got to haul all the equipment over to the club.”

Before Willow could turn the conversation to why Oz was going to college if he wasn’t going to take his classes seriously, Oz shifted to a new topic. “Haven’t seen much of Xander lately. He caught up doing the townie thing?”

Willow reluctantly let Oz lead her to the less contentious subject of Xander’s whereabouts.

“He’s just busy. Work, and the new apartment. I thought maybe he wasn’t coming around as much ‘cause he was weirded out that we’re in school and he’s not. But I don’t think he really wants to go to college, and he seems happy that we like it here. Anyway, he hangs out with his roommate more these past few weeks. They eat dinner together and stuff.”

“Huh.”

“Huh what?” Willow pressed anxiously. Oz didn’t often make observations about Xander, so she was worried that he might have caught something about her best friend that she had somehow missed.

“Just seems strange that he and Spike aren’t living together anymore.”

“Huh,” Willow remarked thoughtfully. She hadn’t really considered that before now. “Um, I think it was strange at first, but now they’re friendly again. Anyway, it seemed like it’d be for the best, you know, them living apart.”

“Why?” Oz asked reasonably.

“Well, Giles and Buffy said,” Willow began, and then just stopped. “Maybe, uh . . . okay, I don’t really know why. But I can assure you that it all seemed very reasonable at the time,” she concluded defensively.

“Just thought they liked each other, is all.” Oz sat on the bed next to her, and pulled her in to kiss her nose.

“Well, Xander likes Davy too. So that’s good, right? I mean, he should hang out with human guys.”

“Sure,” Oz said evenly.

“Yeah,” Willow returned unhappily. Maybe Xander was all upset about Spike living elsewhere. They had seemed to enjoy one another’s company. Should they have asked him before engineering Project New Roommate? And maybe she shouldn’t have said the part about human guys being better than undead guys. Did Oz think she was prejudiced against the unliving or otherworldly or something?

“Hi Oz, hi Will,” Buffy called as she edged open the door to the room cautiously. “You’re not having wild monkey sex, are you?” The door opened fully, and Buffy looked at the fully-clothed couple with relief.

“Not at the moment,” Oz replied. Willow turned red, but she waggled her eyebrows in a daring fashion at Buffy.

Buffy held up her hand in a clear “don’t tell me” gesture.

“I’m just here to pick up my books -- coming to Psych section, Will? Or is Oz the one taking on note-duty this time?” Buffy looked sternly at the lack of books and presence of guitar by Oz’s side.

“No, that’d be Willow,” Oz said smoothly, picking up his guitar to go. “You’ll come around to the second set at the Bronze, right?”

“We’ll be there after patrolling,” Willow assured him, her smile somewhere between “aww, cute Oz! sparkly Oz!” and “you’d better have some answers about skipping class later, buster!”

“Say, Oz,” Buffy said carefully.

“Yeah?”

“How come you’re wearing my fuzzy pink sweater?”

 

*********

 

Xander snuck into the apartment. It felt a little strange, being all covert, but Spike’s remarks about Davy had wigged him out a little. He just didn’t feel prepared to respond to an overture from his roommate yet.

Yet?!? Xander cursed at himself for his train of thought. If Spike hadn’t brought it up, he wouldn’t even consider such a thing. He quit mid-curse, however, then froze in elaborate caution lest he bring forth Davy to make passes at him.

Not that Xander was so vain as to think that Davy was definitely interested. But if he was, well, then Xander would just. . . and it was because the part about what he would do if that happened seemed so fuzzy that Xander crept into the kitchen surreptitiously.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he decided that no other signs of life force were apparent in the apartment. Looked like he was the only one here. He bent over to look at the contents of the fridge and poked around at covered casserole dishes. One thing for sure, he’d definitely been eating better since Davy came on the scene.

“-- want some cookies?” a voice said, and then there was a hand on his shoulder, and Xander jumped into the air and shrieked.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Davy said, backing away with wide eyes. “If you don’t like the oatmeal-raisin kind, that’s cool.”

“No,” Xander said briefly. He let out a forced laugh. “Just thought I was the only one home. Sorry to get all screamy on you.”

Davy laughed. “You’re so funny, Xander.”

Xander frowned back. “Yeah.”

Davy paused and looked at Xander for a moment. “You okay? Something wrong?”

“No, me, I’m great. I’m as okay as okay can be. Why do you ask?” Xander shrugged frenetically and took a step back as Davy took a step towards him.

“I don’t know,” Davy responded, and stopped. He looked at Xander quizzically. “Um, did our conversation earlier, uh, upset you? The conversation about Michael and me?”

“Our . . . no! Not at all! I’m not upset!” Xander protested, but when he saw Davy’s skeptical look he sighed. “Seriously, it’s not anything that *you* said. I’m not bugged by the thing with Michael that you had going. It’s just that . . . well, I went over to see Spike, and he’s got all kinds of crazy ideas about . . . crazy stuff.”

Davy turned away to grab the tin canister with the cookies inside. He narrowed his eyes slightly, processing this information. When he turned back, he popped the top of the container, offering the contents to Xander with an easy smile.

Xander smiled a little nervously at him, and reached in for a cookie. His eyes bugged out when he bit in. “Wow. Wow!!! These are the best! You could really give Willow a run for her money, cookie-wise! Will’s a great baker, even when Buffy helps, and that’s saying a lot, because Buffy tends to forget important ingredients in cookies. Like sugar. And then she burns them. But these! These are great!”

“Thanks,” Davy said, amused once more. He reached in for a cookie himself, and munched at it thoughtfully. “You know, Xander, I’m not sure why, but I get the feeling that Spike didn’t like me too much when he met me.”

“Oh, no,” Xander assured him. “It wasn’t you he didn’t like. He doesn’t like most hu-- I mean, he doesn’t really like anybody.”

“Maybe,” Davy responded, “but I guess I don’t want *you* to feel weird about me because of him. I mean, whatever it is that you guys have, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me. I’m not really sure what he said today, but I think that you have to take his attitude towards me into account when you weigh your options. I also think that if he’s not living here with you anymore, that you should look to other sources for friendship and . . . whatever else you want.”

Xander gazed back at Davy. The words were surely English, but the sentences didn’t add up. What did he have . . . with Spike? What options? Other sources?

“Look, I won’t push,” Davy continued. “I’m sure that Spike is great . . . in his own way. You’re a nice roommate, and I don’t want either of us to feel strange just because we enjoy spending time together. Whatever Spike thinks shouldn’t affect us.” Davy waited to see what Xander thought of the last pronoun.

Xander nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said gravely. He mentally patted himself on the back for seeming like he knew what Davy was talking about.

“Good. I’m glad we talked about this,” Davy concluded, and put a hand on Xander’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Xander said dubiously. He wasn’t sure if he should step away or -- well, was this the pass, the one Spike said Davy would make? Maybe, though it just seemed friendly. Then again, Xander wasn’t quite sure how guys came on to each other. Did it start out with shoulder-holding? Should he duck out from under Davy’s hand? Or would that make Davy think he was not cool with the Davy and Michael thing? Or the Davy being gay thing? Or the Davy maybe or maybe not trying to jump his bones thing?

Davy hadn’t intended to keep his hand on Xander’s shoulder, but Xander had just stopped moving, and was looking at Davy in a wondering kind of way, a stare that was making Davy’s throat a little dry. Davy felt himself start to lean forward just a little.

Suddenly Xander caught a glance of the kitchen clock over Davy’s shoulder. 7:30 -- he was supposed to meet the gang for patrol in fifteen minutes. “Oh, yeah, uh, I think it’s good we had this talk, but . . . now . . . Um, I have to get going. Get outside for a little while. You know. Get some air?”

“That’s fine, Xander,” David replied in an understanding tone. He dropped his hand away gently, and tried not to let his disappointment show in his voice. “Take some time and some space and think about things.”

“Sure,” Xander offered. Again, Davy wasn’t making much sense. Oh, well -- he had to get going. He grabbed his backpack, and two more of Davy’s cookies, and took off.

 

**********

 

On Monday night Buffy met up with the others at Giles’ place, and quickly handed out assignments. “Will, you’re with me tonight. We’ll head down to the crypt over at cemetery #9 and check to see whether the entrance has been mojo-ed or not. Xander, you and Spike take the periphery. You see any demon muscle headed towards the entrances, just target and disable. Don’t worry about killing these guys -- for now, we’re just looking to buy a little time and figure out what’s going on. Take ‘em out, knock ‘em down. We’ll need to save our strength for the next full moon, when they’ll be able to summon their leader. And Giles, if you hang here, we’ll call you as soon as we know what’s what.”

Buffy turned to Spike, who was cleaning out his nails with a sharp spear and suppressing a yawn. “You got that, Spike?”

“No killing, just knocking out, the boy’s with me, and you’ll buy us all drinks later.”

“Right.” Buffy nodded her head definitively, but then shook it in confusion. “What? No! There’ll be no drinks -- I mean, there’ll be drinks, but I am not paying for yours!”

“Oh, come on, Slayer,” Spike growled. “It’s the least you could do when I could be at home eating onion dip with Clem. I’m not asking for dosh, just for drinks.”

“Hey, Clem makes onion dip?” Xander asked, interested.

“Yeah, he does it up well. The secret is, you use more than one packet, and then you add -- ”

“Enough!” Buffy cut in. “You two can trade recipes later. Now’s the time for beating things up! I made a promise to protect this town, and I keep my promises!”

“Yeah,” Xander nodded, and then added in a tell-tale voice. “Uh, Buffy, you realize that if you keep your promises you’ll have to buy us drinks? You already agreed, see, so --”

“Ooooohhhh!!” Buffy fumed. “Fine. Me and Will with the mojo, you and Spike with the beating, and then drinks all around at the Bronze.”

“Good work, whelp,” Spike told Xander in a low voice as they exited.

“Thanks, Spike,” Xander returned, and they grinned at each other as they galloped along to keep up with Buffy and Willow, making silly “I keep my promises” Buffy-faces at one another.


	9. And Davy Makes Three

Xander woke up the next day and stretched, his eyes still shut in the darkened room. His windows were covered with heavy shades just so he wouldn’t wake up on days like this, when he didn’t have work or slayerette duties. Only indirect light filtered in, creating a dim, hazy glow in the room.

He vaguely remembered that the patrol last night had gone fine -- well, fine in that he was relatively bruise free, though Buffy had been upset that the villains du jour were still at large. Oh well. They’d check again later tonight, when the bad guys would least expect it. Giles had found out that the other camp was moving slowly, though no one was sure yet of the reason for their caution.

He lay still for a moment, breathing in deeply. Then he flipped onto his side and opened his eyes.

“Aaargggh!” he would have screamed, if a hand hadn’t clamped down on his mouth suddenly.

“Quiet, Num,” Spike hissed, as he gripped Xander’s shoulder with his other hand. “It won’t do to frighten your roommate. Just calm down.”

“Calm down?” Xander asked in a confused whisper once his lips were free. “What’re you doing here, anyway?”

“Remember how patrol finished near daylight, and we were near our . . . uh, your apartment?”

“Oh,” Xander replied in a whisper, the scene suddenly clear. “I invited you in so you wouldn’t turn into Mr. Big Pile of Dust.”

“That’s right,” Spike said, still speaking in a low tone. His eyes dropped to Xander’s chest, and Xander looked down himself and saw that Spike’s hand had rested there after it had moved away from his mouth.

Then they both watched as Spike’s hand started to massage his chest.

Xander blinked sleepily at Spike. Was this a wrong thing? Was he supposed to get upset at this? Because it didn’t feel upsetting. It felt really nice.

“Ummmmm,” he offered, turning again onto his back. Spike continued to rub, just below his collarbone, then a little lower. Then lower still.

“Like that, pet?” Spike asked quietly. He shifted closer to Xander’s side.

“Uhhh, yeah. It’s good . . .” Xander trailed off, letting his eyes flutter almost-shut.

Spike’s hand skimmed his abdomen, moving back and forth with just enough pressure so the touch wasn’t ticklish.

“Xander,” Spike began.

“Yeah?” Xander would have asked, but instead he gasped when Spike slid over him deftly, and pressed his lips to Xander’s.

Okay. So the massage-y stuff . . . not so out of line with friendly kinds of touching. Just guy stuff. Guys who were friends. But the kissing? That was different, right?

But Xander’s train of thought only gestured briefly at these questions. Maybe it was because he was so tired from last night that he didn’t have much resistance left. He felt strangely heavy and fuzzy, probably from the exertions of patrolling. Maybe it was because he missed Spike, Spike missed him, and the missing each other was coming out kind of weird.

Or maybe it was because Spike was an incredible kisser.

Whatever the reason, Xander bid his thoughts adieu, and moaned low in his throat as he moved beneath the hard body on top of his. So he’d figure out more of what this meant later. Right now, it seemed to make all kinds of sense.

Right now, Spike was kissing him deliberately, darting his tongue in between Xander’s lips and sweeping against his tongue with sureness.

“Oh,” Xander said softly when Spike broke the kiss, but then decided to stop talking.

Why talk, when Spike had stripped off his outer-shirt and t-shirt, and moved Xander up a bit to pull off Xander’s t-shirt in a kind of slow-motion? Why talk when Spike, with soft sighs, had started to roll his hips in a languid movement over Xander’s hardening cock?

Xander grasped Spike’s slim hips to tug his body flush to his own and thrust against Spike’s erection desperately. Okay, way beyond friends here. But what Spike was doing now to his neck felt amazing, and why bother pushing for logical explanations? Instead Xander arched his neck up more, and used his grip on Spike’s waist for leverage to move Spike harder and faster against his groin.

/I am so going with the flow/, Xander thought briefly before he caught Spike’s lips with his and bit. Spike cried out loudly with pleasure, and thrust his tongue inside and against Xander’s, striving to tangle their mouths together. Then Spike drew his lips back and sucked hard on Xander’s tongue, drawing him in and out of his mouth.

When he heard a knock at the door, Xander looked up at Spike to see what he should do, what he should say. But Spike’s eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed as he shivered above him, diving in to run his tongue up Xander’s neck, and so Xander just did what made sense.

“Come in,” he called out.

Davy opened the door and gaped briefly at the two men on the bed.

Spike barely took note of him, just bent down further to rub his cheek against Xander’s chest, and began nibbling at Xander’s right nipple.

“What’s up?” Xander managed to gasp out, but between his own heavy breathing and Spike’s, he couldn’t make out what Davy was saying. “Just come over here,” he mouthed hoarsely at Davy, and Davy began moving tentatively towards the bed.

“Um, do you want me to, uh, do you, what--” Davy stammered.

“Oh, come on, then,” Spike interrupted him, looking up sharply from Xander’s chest. “I’ve seen the way you look at the boy, like you could just eat him up. Get on the bed already.”

And that seemed like an odd development, but not so much stranger than what was already happening. Xander let his head fall back against the pillow, and decided to ignore the question about whether adding Davy to this get-together was a good idea.

Spike shifted to his left nipple, and Xander tangled his fingers in Spike’s hair, catching his breath when Spike changed from nibbling to biting.

Davy slowly crawled up from the bottom edge of the bed, and paused to glance at Spike before turning his eyes on Xander. Then he shrugged, a kind of “what the hell,” reaction that Xander imagined his own face must display at the moment, and stretched out next to them.

Spike shifted off Xander just a little, so that one of his legs fell between Xander’s, the other leg to Xander’s left.

Davy drew in his breath at the prospect of increased access that Spike’s move had allowed. He reached out slowly and began kneading Xander’s right thigh, working his hand up towards Xander’s increasingly swollen hard-on.

Xander whimpered when he felt two sets of hands start to pull at his boxers. He felt Spike move down, nuzzling his abdomen, before he started to rub against Xander’s sensitive head with his cheek. “Oh, god, hurry up,” Xander called out, and Spike looked up at him and grinned.

Davy slid down to the end of the bed, and he and Spike pulled together for a rough kiss. Xander failed to feel shocked. How could he, with all of the other stuff happening around him?

“I thought you didn’t like me,” Davy panted when Spike let him up for air.

“I don’t,” Spike said simply, and drew Davy back towards him, ferociously capturing his mouth.

Xander watched goggle-eyed as they helped each other take off their clothes, barely stopping the devouring kiss.

They pulled apart, panting, and Xander watched Davy lick his kiss-bruised lips. Then Spike ran his hand lightly over Davy’s chest, and the two of them nodded in some type of agreement.

“Hey, just about to come over here,” Xander called out. His voice betrayed his irritation at the distance between himself and them, and they both smirked and turned towards him ravenously.

Spike, still resting close to the bottom half of the bed, pulled Xander onto his left side, and licked his way up and down Xander’s cock, growling as he lapped at the pre-cum collected at the tip.

Davy curved behind Xander, biting at his neck. He pressed against Xander’s ass with a groan, then slithered down to lick a trail from the base of Xander’s spine, lower, and lower, to the heat and smoothness between Xander’s cheeks. He murmured something as his tongue dipped into the cleft, and Xander flushed all over.

“Fuck,” Xander cried out helplessly, as Spike sucked him teasingly. Spike’s lips slid smoothly, taking in the hard shaft little by little until Xander was buried in his mouth. He grasped Xander’s right hip and pulled himself closer, taking Xander ever further until he touched the back of his throat.

Behind Xander, Davy pushed upwards once more until his chest was at Xander’s back, shuddering as he rubbed his stiff length against the wet trail he’d left with his mouth.

“Fuck, oh god,” Xander whispered when Davy’s motions suddenly created a shiver-inducing rubbing against the pucker of his opening. He made a low sound as he felt his balls draw up rapidly to his body.

“Oh, now, yeah,” Xander hissed, “please, Spike, now,” he called and began to thrust into Spike’s cool wet mouth.

Davy thrust harder, matching the pace of Xander’s thrusts forward, and worked his hand onto Xander’s chest to twist his nipple sharply. “More,” Xander cried, “Davy, now, now,” and Davy sped his motions, panting hard against Xander’s ear.

“You want this,” Davy gasped, “you know you want this,” and then he shuddered and cried out, spurting come between himself and Xander.

Xander arched back into the feeling of the hot liquid spilling onto him, then bucked forward harshly, his eyes drawn to Spike’s look of bliss as he bobbed his head up and down over Xander. They both moaned every time his lips pulled over the edge of Xander’s dark cock head.

Spike’s gazed directly up at Xander, his face clouded with desire. His eyes said without words, “I want you, I want you, now, now,” and Xander curled forward with a strangled noise in his throat, jerking and coming as Spike swallowed and swallowed around him.

Xander jerked awake.

“Oh, fuck,” he said in shock as he felt the wet spunk on the sheets he’d tangled himself in.

“Oh my god!” he breathed as he looked around his bed and remembered his dream in a rush.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swore in frustration as he fell back against the damp covers. “I am sooooooo gay!”


	10. The Interpretation of Dreams

Giles looked up from the volumes scattered on his table and drew himself up. So much for a quiet morning alone with his books, he thought wistfully, rising to answer the knocking at his front door.

“Oh, Xander! Yes, do come in,” Giles invited the young man uselessly, seeing as how Xander had already stumbled into his apartment and curled up into a ball on his couch.

Giles looked Xander over with an expert eye. No apparent injuries, unless it was something internal. No demon goop or vampire dust on the clothes, he noticed with no small relief. Xander’s tendency to collapse on Giles’s couch after patrolling had necessitated the purchase of a bulk canister of Scotch Guard.

Giles sat at the other end of the couch and listened to Xander mumble into his knees about how he was probably the stupidest guy in the universe, not just in this universe, in any universe out there.

“Xander?” Giles inquired. “Are you physically hurt?”

Shake of the head.

“Has something frightening occurred? Are the others all right?”

Wary shake of the head, followed by vigorous nodding.

“Well, then,” Giles said, and stopped. “Cup of tea?”

Shrug.

“Hang on then, I’ll be right back with the pot. Care for a scone?”

Enthusiastic nod. Well, at least the boy wasn’t a complete wreck. The prospect of food still excited a reaction.

Giles puttered around his kitchen, making the tea and pulling out plates. His preparations were broken only occasionally by the sounds of pitiful moans coming from the couch. Finally having gathered all of the accoutrements on a tray along with the tea and scones, Giles braced himself a bit and returned to the living room.

He sat silently and watched Xander add numerous spoonfuls of sugar to his tea and smear butter and jam on his scone.

“Well,” Giles began, “what can I do for you, Xander?”

Xander widened his eyes and said “uhm -- wahntdtotk -- abtdreems”

“Please continue when you’re done chewing, Xander,” Giles said with a sigh, and waited.

Xander swallowed and looked down into his tea. “Um. I wanted to talk about dreams.”

“All right,” Giles responded. “What would you like to know about them?”

“No, it’s more like . . . you talk to Buffy about her dreams, right?” Xander paused and brushed crumbs from his shirt onto the couch.

“Yes, of course.” Giles watched mournfully as jam dripped off Xander’s scone onto the cushions. “Buffy often comes to realize important insights through her dreams. They are perhaps one of the most valuable tools we have in determining the crux of her missions.”

“So is that like a slayer-watcher thing, or do you pretty much take on all comers?” Xander asked nervously.

“I beg your pardon?” Giles inquired. Seeing Xander’s anxious look, he soldiered on. “Xander, would you like to speak to me about one of your dreams?”

“It’s not so much my dream, as the dream of a friend of mine,” Xander said hastily. “Come on, I have friends,” he muttered at Giles’s skeptical look.

“Xander, I’m not questioning the breadth of your social circle. But if you . . .” Giles let the words hang, aware that Xander was starting to look a little panicked. Perhaps it would be best just to play along with the “friend” scenario. He assumed a neutral front, and started over. “Well, why don’t you tell me about your friend’s dream, and we’ll go from there.”

“See, okay, my friend . . . he had this dream with two other people in it. And the two other people, they don’t like each other so much in real life, but in the dream they were very friendly.”

“Yes, go on,” Giles nodded.

“Right. So they were friendly, uh, kind of affectionate, to each other, and to m-- my friend. Who was there also. In the dream.”

“Yes,” Giles said slowly, taking a sip of his tea. “The description you provided sounds rather vague. I can assure you that your friend would gain more chances for insight and interpretation if he would provide more specific information.”

“There was sex.” Xander glanced up at Giles, his faced flushed.

“Pardon?”

“In the dream. The other people had sex with my friend in the dream. All at once -- as in three people having sex together.” Xander dropped his eyes to the floor and waited.

“I see,” Giles said quietly.

“You know, Xander,” he continued gently, “often we dream of sexual situations or other types of intimate contact when we wish to increase the depth of our relationships. Your friend shouldn’t feel odd that he had this dream. It may be that he wishes to reconcile the other participants, resolve some point of dispute, in order that they might all get along with one another.”

“Oh!” Xander nodded hopefully. “I think he would like it if the other people were friendly to each other.”

“Or,” Giles went on, “he may worry about his place in each of their lives, and find himself doubtful as to how he could detect some sign to assure himself that they care for him.”

“Yes! Yes, that makes sense. It could be about that, right?” Xander nodded excitedly.

“Certainly.”

Giles paused and took another sip of tea. “Of course,” he observed, “the dream may simply indicate that he wishes to have sex with these people.”

Xander dropped his teacup with a clatter.

“What?” he gasped out.

“Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar,” Giles said genially, deciding to ignore the tea sinking into his rug. “The dream could communicate a real desire to increase the literal level of intimacy in the relationship with one or both of the other participants.”

“One or . . . both?” Xander repeated in a whisper.

“Indeed. There are other types of encounters and relationships besides the traditional dyad. Besides just two people together,” he added hastily, seeing Xander’s confused look.

“Or with just one of them,” Xander said slowly, frowning.

“Yes,” Giles responded. “Was there any more . . . erm . . . specific information about the encounter that seemed particularly pertinent to your friend? It may be that such details would lead to a clearer view of the situation.”

“Maybe,” Xander said warily.

“Then I would focus on those elements. There’s no need to tell me the details, Xander, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Okay,” Xander said, and then hesitated once more.

“Yes?”

“Maybe it is about sex. But what if it’s not supposed to be? Like, he hadn’t really thought he could be attracted to them?”

“Whatever the initial feelings about these other individuals, I can assure you that sexual attraction is rarely supposed to be more than what it is. And as for his doubt beforehand regarding the possibility of desiring these people, well, his thoughts may not have reached that conclusion, but desire and thought rarely move in concert.”

“Yeah . . .” Xander said quietly, and Giles reflected that he seemed both relieved and concerned.

“Well, thanks Giles. This has helped a lot,” Xander said, and grabbed the tray to bring it into the kitchen.

“Always happy to help, Xander,” Giles observed, swiping at the coffee table with a damp rag.

“Guess I’ll take off,” Xander announced, and turned to the door.

“Oh, Xander?” Giles asked quietly.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Your desires are what they are, and you shouldn’t judge them. But your thoughts do play a significant role in the course you choose to take. Please be careful of yourself.”

Xander turned back, and grinned sheepishly.

“Kind of figured out it was me, huh?”

“Yes, somehow I did,” Giles replied dryly.

There was a pause.

“Figure anything else out?” Xander asked with seeming nonchalance.

Giles gazed at him with a neutral expression. “I did observe we were both taking a great deal of care keeping the pronouns involved in this conversation ambiguous,” he noted casually.

“Yeah,” Xander said simply. “Maybe they’ll get more specific later.”

“Perhaps they will. I trust that you know what sort of precautions you ought to take in these situations, regardless of the specificity of your . . . pronouns,” Giles observed paternally.

“Oh, yeah,” Xander said hastily. “I’m all set with precautions.” He started backing away in the direction of the door. “So, thanks Giles, and I’ll just get out of your hair now, so . . .”

Giles nodded kindly at Xander’s frantic goodbye wave and regarded the chipped tea cup on the rug thoughtfully. His research on the latest prophesy could wait for now. If he could contribute anything to help Xander choose wisely, then certainly he ought to do his part.

More confidences from the young man himself would serve the purpose best, but then again, he could query Xander another time. For now, he did have some pertinent information at his disposal.

Giles deposited the damaged china on the kitchen counter, and headed to his bookcases to find the appropriate Council writings on the vampire known as Spike.


	11. Field Guides

Xander peered around the corner of Personal Growth and checked to see that no one was headed his way from Parenting or Photography.

He hunched over and eased behind the section he’d been making his way towards ever since he’d entered the bookstore an hour and a half ago. Xander sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he asked himself again what the hell he was doing here.

Unfortunately, he had a list of reasons that prevented him from fleeing the scene.

First the conversation with Spike at the crypt about whether he was attractive to men.

Then the shoulder-holding with Davy, still classified under the “possible come-on” category.

Then he’d had the unexpected dream about Spike *and* Davy.

Then Giles had pretty much figured out from his dream that he was having dirty thoughts about boys, and had practically told him to go buy condoms and lube.

But none of it meant anything, his inner voice protested. All he’d had was one freakin’ dream, one totally unreal scenario with two guys, one single unconscious fantasy about Spike, and Davy, and him, all together, on his bed, naked and . . . uh . . . damn! Fuck!

Xander shifted uncomfortably, scanning the shelves for a large book to hold in front of his pants as he thought of some of the more graphic details of his dream.

Stupid subconscious, he groused. What the hell had Willow called it when she was helping Buffy study for the psych midterm -- the id? After listening to Willow repeat it fifteen times even Xander had picked up the terms. Idiotic id -- it couldn’t just stay all hidden like it was supposed to during the waking hours. No, it had to go and make a special surprise guest appearance right in the middle of the bookstore.

Bad thing about being a guy -- even when his brain was screaming “straight, straight here, straight man coming through,” his stupid dick decided to stand up and stage an enthusiastic protest.

No matter how much Xander didn’t feel like dealing with the protest, recent events did seem to add up to some sort of pattern. Namely, the pattern of him being kind of gay.

So what was he doing skulking around in the bookstore? Well, he was a Scooby after all. If he couldn’t annihilate the unknown stuff that was bugging him, he’d try to research it. Hence he’d undertaken this trip expressly to poke around furtively in the G’s for fun facts on the topic of guys being extra-friendly with other guys. Only once he’d gotten to the G’s, a sign told him to head for Q’s, because . . .

Queer Studies / LGBT Lifestyles. Oh great, he thought. People study this like Giles studies demonology? Seemed like it, because there were way more books here than Xander had thought there’d be.

The only problem was he had no idea where he should begin his search. He paused for a moment before slowly heading to the “Lifestyles” part of the aisle.

He squinted, and cocked his head to the right to study the titles. “The Joy of Gay Sex” -- was that like the “Joy of Cooking”? Pre-heat, oil, and prick to test for doneness? Gah!

Okay, calming breaths. Could be that’d be a good one to look at, since there were a bunch of copies of it. It was obviously a popular choice for, uh . . . people who wanted to read the books in this section.

But when he reached out to pick up a copy, he froze. Wasn’t he going overboard a little, heading right for the sex positions guide?

He scanned the shelves with frustration. Why couldn’t there be a book called “So You’re Having Wet Dreams About Threesomes with Your Male Friends: Explanations About Why You’re Not a Freak”? That, he’d buy.

Hmmm. Maybe the extra-pervy section was somewhere else.

Back over to the Queer Studies part of the aisle. Surely someone would want to explain how this (whatever it was) was normal stuff, no cause for concern. Okay. There was “Queer in America: Sex, the Media, and the Closets of Power”. Hesitantly, Xander turned that one over, but when he saw the words “written by the pioneer of outing celebrities,” on the back, he dropped the book hastily.

“Hey, Xander,” a male voice called out, and Xander sprinted down the aisle towards . . . okay, onto the R’s now . . . Reference. He snatched the closest book, and jerked his head up with a goofy grin, pretending to be pleasantly surprised to see Nathan headed his way.

“Hey,” he said weakly to Nathan, who turned his head sidewise to check out the book Xander had grabbed.

Nathan looked up with raised eyebrows. “Xander, is there something you’re not telling me?”

Xander turned scarlet, and turned over the book warily to check what title he’d ended up with. “Emily Post's Wedding Etiquette: Cherished Traditions and Contemporary Ideas for a Joyous Celebration (4th Edition),” he read out loud slowly, and glanced at Nathan with a despairing look on his face.

“Don’t worry, Xander,” Nathan said with a grin. “You can trust me not to reveal you’re embarking on a secret career as a wedding planner.”

“I don’t think that this is what I thought it was,” Xander said in confusion, and then shoved the book back onto the shelf. “Um . . . what’re you up to?”

“Looking for presents for my family for the holidays,” Nathan said. At Xander’s bewildered look, he explained. “We’re pretty secular, but when the big Jewish holidays come around, we try to do some kind of family activities. ‘Course, being so secular, sometimes we miss the *actual* holiday and have to reschedule some kind of thing to mark it. My sister said that this year instead of feeling guilty about not observing Rosh Hashanah and/or Yom Kippur, we should try to give each other books that encourage personal growth.”

“There’s Personal Growth,” Xander pointed out, gesturing to the aisle nearby.

Nathan laughed easily. “Yeah, thanks for the directional. I picked out this one for my dad already -- “The Gigantic Book of Cookie Recipes”. If that doesn’t encourage personal growth, I don’t know what will.”

Xander nodded wisely, and shifted back and forth on his feet. “You want some help thinking of other titles for other gifts?”

Nathan shrugged. “Maybe I’ll get to the others later -- I got distracted over in the graphic novels section, and I don’t have a ton of time to get lunch before class. You hungry?”

“You know I’m pretty much always hungry,” Xander said truthfully. “You do recall that it was me who ate all the weird vegan corn dogs that were in your freezer the last time I was over. And I didn’t even like them. Plus I ate them while they were still frozen. But I’ve got to run some errands while the stores are still open, so no lunching for me. Let’s hang out sometime this week, though, and I’ll bring you some real snacks to make up for the ones I ate.”

“That’s fine. Hey, I might go catch this band I heard about later, if you want to come with for that.”

“That sounds like fun, but I have plans, I think,” Xander said regretfully, and then tried to remember what those plans were. Something about the Bronze, some kind of pool game. “Oh yeah, I’m meeting . . . Spike.”

Xander could almost hear the vamp’s voice in his head: “9 o’clock, pet. And don’t be late.” The only problem was, as he heard Spike’s words, all he could see was dream-Spike grinning, on top of him, twisting his hardness against Xander’s swollen cock.

Nathan watched as Xander flashed pink, then red, then a ghastly white as the blood drained from his face.

“Those must be some plans you have with Spike,” he said casually. “Well, come on. I’m going to buy this book. And, go on ahead; I’m just going to grab another one that would make a good present for someone.” He motioned to Xander, who stumbled ahead of him unsteadily.

Xander cursed himself as he waited outside the store for Nathan to finish up his purchases. Why couldn’t he have gone to a bookstore outside town limits? He was pretty sure Nathan hadn’t figured out what he’d been looking for in the aisle. But he didn’t want to mess things up with the only guy he was hanging out with that he hadn’t yet had sexual dreams about.

It’d be just his luck if Nathan got the wiggins about Xander’s newfound identity confusion. What if Nathan could somehow *tell* that Xander was having groiny feelings about not just one guy, but two. What was wrong with him? If he was going to go all gay, couldn’t he just keep one guy friend, just a friend, in the picture?

“All set,” Nathan said, sliding into step alongside Xander. They faced each other in front of the store. “Oh, and this is for you,” Nathan remarked as he handed out a bag from the bookstore.

“Huh? Why? What?” Xander asked uncertainly.

“For your own personal growth,” Nathan grinned. “My New Year’s gift to you. And tell Spike I said ‘Hey’ when you see him later, alright?”

Xander mumbled his thanks, and watched as Nathan ambled off. Why would Nathan think he should get Xander something? And why would he want to send greetings to Spike, whom he’d never met?

He shrugged, and stuck his hand inside the bag.

Xander turned the book right side up, and read the title slowly: “Bi Any Other Name: Bisexual People Speak Out”.

Xander shoved the book back in the bag, turning a range of colors again.

Okay, so Nathan had obviously seen what section Xander had been browsing in, but he hadn’t seemed to freak out. Instead, he was buying Xander encouraging coming out literature? For Rosh Hashanah? What was up with that?

“Chocolate,” Xander murmured to himself uneasily. “I need lots and lots and lots of chocolate.”

 

**********

 

“Going out tonight?” Clem asked cheerfully.

Spike was sitting in the rickety chair, completely ready to leave. Being that it was only seven o’clock, however, he was a bit ahead of schedule for his nine o’clock plans at the Bronze with Xander.

“Yeah,” he said shortly. He liked conversations with Clem, but at this moment he hoped the demon had plans to leave the crypt immediately.

“Dyed your hair today?” Clem asked, flopping down on the torn up couch.

“Yeah,” Spike responded darkly.

“Looks good, man,” Clem ventured.

Spike grunted.

“That a new shirt?” Clem inquired, flipping casually through Demon Babe!™ magazine.

“Yes,” Spike said through gritted teeth. Bloody hell, this wasn’t going to go on for the next hour and a half, was it?

“Red’s really your color, dude,” Clem announced with enthusiasm. “It’s like your signature or something. Hey, like I say, go for what works!”

“Clem, I know you’re trying to have a chat with me, but I don’t wish to speak right now,” Spike said haughtily.

“Do you know you sound like that Watcher guy when you talk like that, Spike?” Clem asked, leaning forward with interest. “How’s about you do that imitation down at Willie’s sometime? Everyone would buy you all the drinks and buffalo wings you could handle!”

“Oh, honestly, Clem!” Spike shouted hoarsely. Then he rolled his eyes and tried to collect himself. Clem was all right -- no need to shout at him, after all. Wouldn’t do to hurt his crypt-mate’s feelings.

But Clem didn’t seem offended. He just, well, sat there making faces.

Spike turned to watch this distraction more closely, but that only seemed to intensify the strangeness of the contortions flitting across Clem’s visage.

“Clem?” Spike asked with concern in his voice.

“Erk,” said Clem with a choked voice, his eyes opened as wide as they could go (well, not very wide at all, but if you knew him you could tell that this eye position was basically goggling for his species). “You had a question?”

“All right there?” Spike asked guardedly.

“Great -- just great, Spike. And you? You good?” Clem gave up trying to stop the facial twists, and covered his mouth and nose with his shaggy-skinned hand.

“Just relaxing a bit, then going out to play pool with Xander.” Spike remarked with forced diffidence.

“Right on,” Clem nodded with vigor.

Spike narrowed his eyes and twisted his mouth menacingly. “You know, mate, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that you’re feeling positively merry this evening.”

“Really?” Clem said with an overly-surprised tone.

“Yeah,” Spike said firmly, convinced now he was on to something. “Now the question is, what is it that’s making you merry? You’re amused by something. Care to share?”

“Uh, nothing really, Spike. Just feeling kinda antsy -- I probably shouldn’t have drunk up all the Fierce Melon Mountain Dew. You know, I think I’ll take a walk. I’ll just get up, and leave the crypt, and leave you here, to finish getting ready. For playing pool at the Bronze. With Xander.” Clem looked as though he was about to burst out with something, but managed to hold whatever it was in.

By the time Spike had a chance to react, Clem had gone into overdrive, grabbing a hooded sweatshirt, and hurrying out of the crypt with a wave.

Well, at least he was alone now. He could relax in peace until it was time to leave. No more distractions with Clem gone.

Spike glanced at the clock on the microwave. Twelve past seven. Bollocks! Maybe he should call Clem back?


	12. Night Out, Part 1

Oz set his guitar in the stand and walked off stage after Devon. The earlier set was never as interesting -- younger kids who either ignored them or stepped all over each other in their haste to get a closer view of Devon’s crotch. Devon ignored most of them, but for some reason that seemed to get them more cranked up. Oz could see Devon trying to back away from a persistent group of chirruping admirers right now. Hard to move fast in tight low-slung leather jeans, though.

The bassist, Tianhu, tossed Oz a water bottle and shook his head despairingly. “Seven o’clock shows, man. It ain’t right. And look at this! I’m all smudged.” He batted his eyelashes with a pitiful flutter as they headed for a table on the side of the club.

“Little early for you?” Oz observed.

“Goddamn right it is,” Tianhu said with a snarl made slightly less effective by his sweet face. “Fucking fourteen year olds out there, and I’m *still* drunk from last night.”

“An impressive feat,” Oz stated before tipping the water bottle back to drink. 

Zack stumbled towards them with drumsticks still in hand. 

“I just got up at sundown,” Tianhu shrugged as Zack joined them. 

“Anyone ever tell you that you keep vampire hours?” Oz asked with a raised brow.

“Anyone ever tell you that you should shut the fuck up?” Tianhu said merrily, and flicked Oz’s green boa so that it wrapped around his shoulders again.

“Yeah, Osbourne,” Zack chimed in with glee. “You talk too much.” 

Oz shrugged, and stole Tianhu’s half-full water bottle.

“Can’t keep his trap shut,” Devon agreed, coming up from behind them. He took off his rhinestone neck choker and tossed it at Tianhu, who put it on absently. 

“And people wonder why I’m so reticent,” Oz commented, grabbing Devon’s water and hoarding it with his stash. 

“Nice eye-shadow, by the way,” Tianhu complimented Zack.

“You like? MAC -- Pink Freeze.” Zack preened as they all nodded gravely at him.

“That was a great set.” 

Oz shifted his gaze over to the newcomer, a thin guy with wavy dark hair and glasses. “Thanks,” he shrugged. “You should stick around for the next one.”

“Yeah, I probably will. Haven’t seen you guys play before.”

“Then you’ve gotta be new in town,” Zack said decidedly. “We’re one of three or four bands that make up the permanent ‘scene’ here. We get other ones coming through, but we’re Sunnydale born, bred, and based, man.”

“That explains it then. I just started at UC Sunnydale -- transferred here. I’m Nathan, by the way.”

Devon pointed around the table. “That’s Tianhu, there’s Zack, I’m Devon, and this charming creature is Oz.”

“Hey,” Oz said.

“Need any more water?” Nathan asked, a slight smile on his lips. He held out an unopened water bottle to Oz.

“It’s important to stay well-hydrated.” Oz explained, and accepted the offering.

“Why does he get to have all the water?” Tianhu murmured plaintively to Zack. 

“Well, we’re headed out to the diner round the corner for burgers. We’ll be back a little before ten, okay?” Zack asked, and moved off with Tianhu when Oz nodded at them. “We’ll get you all the water you want there,” they heard him reassuring Tianhu as he pushed him towards the exit.

“You see that?” Devon griped. “I’m the lead singer, but everyone cops to Oz. He’s the real leader of the band.”

“Kind of like Michael Nesmith was with the Monkees,” Nathan offered.

“True,” Oz noted. “He was, though he rarely sang. Fine vocal stylings in the song ‘Sweet Young Thing’, however.”

“Always been partial to ‘You Just May be the One’ myself,” Nathan contributed.

“God, the Monkees sucked! What are you both going on about?” Devon asked in exasperation. “Listen, I’m going to find those annoying chicks and make them buy me dinner. I’ll be back, okay?” Devon waited expectantly for Oz’s nod, and then went off in search of his fans.

“You make a good noise,” Nathan commented.

“Joyful even,” Oz agreed.

There was a long pause, but neither one of them seemed uncomfortable.

Oz finished the already-opened water. He smirked a little when Nathan slid the one he’d brought over to him on the table. For some reason, the new bottle seemed to amuse him. He held it out and appraised it briefly. 

“Do you always go around giving out bottled water to men you’ve never met before?” Oz asked.

“Nah. You’re a special case,” Nathan returned. He leaned back in his chair and waited openly for the reply. 

Oz cocked his head to the side as he pondered this statement. “Staying for the next set?”

Oz held out the water bottle in Nathan’s direction, and Nathan took a swig before handing it over again.

“Should I?” Nathan asked smoothly. “What happens after the next set that makes sticking around worth it?” 

Nonchalantly, Oz offered, “Well, for one thing you can meet my girlfriend.”

“Oh, okay,” Nathan nodded guardedly, an odd look on his face. 

“And she can meet you,” Oz continued. He glanced at Nathan to catch his reaction.

“Right,” Nathan replied slowly. He squinted a little, studying Oz intently. 

Oz met his gaze with a raised eyebrow. Then he shifted his attention to the entrance of the club. “In fact . . . ”

Nathan turned to the left a little and saw Willow darting around the tables, obviously in search of someone. She spotted Oz, and gave a little wave as she began to head over to them. He swiveled back to Oz and shook his head in amusement. 

“Yeah. That I’ll stay for.”

**********

Spike scanned the dance floor with a scowl. Too many heartbeats, too many scents of young people and their overcomplicated emotions. Sometimes coming to the Bronze entertained him precisely because of these stimulants, but tonight they were a distraction. 

He needed to keep his head on straight about this, after all. Xander would clearly jump ship if he knew right now if he even suspected that Spike could want more out of their interactions than just friendship. The boy fancied himself straight, after all, and had probably never harbored a single fantasy about sex with a man. 

It had been over a month since the Twinkie-tossing incident. Spike had had plenty of time since then to think about his furious reactions to Xander’s care-taking gestures. Of course, at the time he’d assumed he’d been in the right to throw whatever he’d wanted to at Xander. What was the boy after, treating him like that, without even talking about it? 

It was the unspokenness of it all that had unnerved him, the way they’d both slipped so easily into a rhythm without figuring out what it was first off. When Spike had realized where his bath oil and smokes were coming from, he’d worked himself up into a fit over the assumptions that the gifts announced to him. He’d only gradually realized that he was angry about the half-assed deal he’d somehow acquiesced to with Xander. They had lived together, treated each other like they *were* together, without any of the real benefits of shacking up with someone. If he was expected to go on like he was half of a married couple, then where the hell was the sex? 

But when he’d reacted in his muddled state, of course not getting the full picture yet, he’d never figured for setting off the chain of events that followed. And now Spike held his beer morosely and questioned why he’d let that daft Slayer and her minions wrestle him and the boy out of what had been a very nice living arrangement, thank you very much. 

Maybe there was some hope of recovery after all. Xander’s lingering questions about why Spike had left without protest had hinted that. So what if Xander had never thought of men in that way -- he’d just have to convince him eventually. Spike had nothing if not plenty of time, and, despite what everyone thought of him, a hoard of patience when there was something he knew he wanted. 

The only problem was that berk, Davy. 

Spike hadn’t trusted the git -- he needed no more than a moment with Xander’s new roommate to figure that out. Davy might have seemed friendly, but Spike could sense a predator from a mile off. And despite his Big Bad status and long list of mortal victims, Spike had never been one to manipulate another into sex or a relationship. He preferred his comers eager and willing, agreeing to things on their own terms. Davy, however, he thought with fierce revulsion, struck him as the king of using a mind fuck to get a fuck. 

He turned his gaze to the dance floor, watching the crowd with frank interest for a particular person. 

**********

Xander paced around the outside of the Bronze a few more times. 

He didn’t want to seem like an overeager geek, getting there so early. But waiting at home had been torture, what with hoping that Davy wouldn’t get back and sense something weird before Xander left, and praying that Spike wouldn’t pick up on any odd vibes when they finally met for their date. 

Date? No, not date, more like . . . something else. Something between two guys, two friends who definitely weren’t sleeping together, even if Xander couldn’t remember having any wet dreams about his male friends before. 

Was there a word for that? For a pre-arranged, non-sexual friendly meeting with a guy you’d dreamed wanted to get you off?

Xander choked on nothing at all, bracing himself against the brick wall for stability. 

He’d had enough twinges, buzzes, and rushes of sensation during the day when he remembered his dream to at least acknowledge that somehow, out of nowhere, he had become attracted to Spike. And Davy too, but that was a separate issue, or at least he hoped it was. The main thing tonight was not to let Spike know about Xander’s sudden lusty thoughts. They’d just begun to fix up their friendship recently, and Xander didn’t want to mess it up.

How could he want to mess around with Spike?!? Did the dream prove that he did want to get up close and personal with the vampire for sure, or was it some kind of fluke? 

Maybe it was a spell. Or a curse. Or a dream-world from which he couldn’t wake? Crap! 

Or what if he’d been whapped with some demon blood that made him get turned on by vampires? He had been feeling suspiciously itchy lately. 

Or could Willow have messed with his mind mistakenly, getting him all hot for guys as she tried to cure her sniffles with a potent mix of lavender and iguana spleen? 

Oh! Maybe he was trapped in an alternate dimension, a dimension where he was really, really, really gay? 

Hang on! If this was an alternate dimension or part of a spell, then maybe he now had superpowers as well! Did he have x-ray vision? Staring at the brick wall in front of him revealed nothing. Or telekinetic powers? He flung his hand out in a precise motion, but the quarter he saw on the ground stayed put. Or . . . maybe he could fly?

Xander gave an experimental leap into the air, and almost crashed into the dumpster in the alley. 

Finally, he just gave up and went inside.

Much to Xander’s surprise, Spike was there a little ahead of schedule as well. He could see him seated at the bar, surveying the room with a proprietary gaze. Xander took a deep breath, momentarily caught up in the sight of Spike holding his beer bottle loosely and leaning against the bar. Stupid alternate reality lust! Think unsexy thoughts, he admonished himself, unable to move from the spot he’d rooted himself to on the edge of the dance floor.


	13. Night Out, Part 2

Spike looked blankly away from the gaggle of girls blatantly checking him out, and turned suddenly to see--

"Oh, fuck," Spike swore.

"Yeah, well, nice to see you too," Buffy said dryly. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Spike spat. He turned on her and snarled.

"Will and I are here to see the Dingoes, and I *would* be ordering a fruity drink if you’d just get out of the way. And quit growling -- you know that act doesn’t work on me."

"If I let you have one drink, will you leave after that?" Spike asked almost plaintively.

Buffy decided that ignoring Spike was the best policy. She leaned on the bar top, trying to catch the bartender’s eye, waving when he looked in her direction. A small tug on her sleeve turned her around, and she smiled brightly when she saw Willow standing there with Nathan.

"Look who’s here!" Willow said enthusiastically, pointing to Nathan so that Buffy could see him.

"Nathan!" Buffy exclaimed, and nodded at him in a business-like manner. "Oh, good -- now that you’re here, I have someone to eat nachos with."

"Happy to oblige," Nathan replied agreeably. Willow squeezed his arm happily, and he smiled at her.

"Nathan saw the first show, and he stayed just to see the second one," Willow informed Buffy and Spike. "Isn’t that so nice? I think that it’s great that Nathan likes the Dingoes, even though this is the first time he’s seen them, and he met Oz -- they were talking when I got here, and Nathan bought Oz water -- and did you see what Oz is wearing? He looks really cool. This is going to be so fun now that we’re all here!"

Spike looked less than impressed by this update.

Nathan raised his eyebrows and looked at Spike curiously.

"Well, we’re all here except Xander," Buffy pointed out. She peered into her drink to scoop out the cherries, missing the dark glare that Spike turned on her. 

"No Xander," Willow agreed forlornly. Then she brightened all at once. "Say, there’s Xander! He’s standing right over there and looking -- wait, now he’s all red -- wait, I think he’s turning around -- everyone, wave, wave!!!"

Nathan and Buffy followed Willow’s frantic wave with their own more subdued gestures until Xander hesitated and headed back in their direction.

"Well, well, the gang’s all here," Xander said. He nodded at Willow and Buffy, clapped Nathan on the shoulder, and blushed when Spike looked at him skeptically. 

What if Spike thought that he’d asked everyone here? Xander felt a little panic rise in his gut. He’d deliberately not mentioned anything to the girls, assuming that they wouldn’t show up on an off-night. He couldn’t let Spike go on assuming that he’d invited anyone else all night, not when they’d just started hanging out again. 

The crisis at hand temporarily relieved Xander’s worry over his recent sexy thoughts about Spike, and as Willow chattered at Nathan and Buffy distractedly watched herself in the mirror, he slid neatly in between the others and moved quietly to Spike’s side. 

Spike’s skeptical look rapidly changed to one of open surprise, but Xander was so jumpy that he didn’t register the shift.

"Look," he whispered to Spike, leaning in to be heard over the music and noise, "I really didn’t know anyone else was showing. I wanted just us to hang out tonight -- if I’d have known . . . "

Spike heard the first part of what Xander said, but the words quickly turned into "Woh woh wah woh woh woh" as he leaned closer to feel Xander’s breath on his ear. 

Nathan paused when he saw Xander leaning in towards Spike, his lips centimeters away from Spike’s left ear, and Spike standing there swaying with his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly.

"Hey," Nathan said in a low voice, interrupting Buffy’s complaints about their composition class, "do you want to go sit down over there?" He moved slightly so that he blocked the view of Spike and Xander. Maybe if he steered Willow over to the free table he’d spotted, Buffy would follow, and then Spike and Xander could talk without everyone hanging around them.

Willow turned briefly to the table and shook her head. "Nope. Too small. We won’t all fit."

"Xander always finds the table," Buffy said evenly, and then raised her voice to a shriek. "Xander!"

"What?" Xander said, turning towards them with large startled eyes. Spike narrowed his eyes at Buffy, and his lip curled back over his teeth.

"Xander, you need to find a place for us to sit," Buffy explained. 

"See, Spike and I were going to play pool," Xander began, and Buffy waved at him to stop. 

"You two can play pool, but first we find the table, ‘kay? Then we order nachos, and then--"

"Might as well do it, pet," Spike murmured to Xander. Maybe after they settled the others in, they could quietly return to their own conversation at another spot in the club.

"Uh, ‘kay," Xander replied uncertainly. Spike had leaned in towards him, and his hand still rested on his shoulder. //Not so far from the chest// Xander thought wildly, and *bam!* back to the look on dream-Spike’s face as he’d . . . 

"There’s a table," Buffy pointed out. She shooed everyone over hastily.

Spike waited until they all had seats, then grasped Xander’s arm softly. Xander shifted around to face him, smiling uncertainly. Was Spike upset with him? Or did he want to hang out with everyone else? What should happen next? He licked his lips unconsciously as he waited for Spike to say something, anything.

Spike sucked in an unnecessary breath. "Why don’t we -- " Spike started, but Willow cut him off.

"Hey," Willow cut in, "Isn’t that your roommate Davy over there, Xander?"

Xander stiffened, a motion Spike took in with narrow eyes. Neither one of them shifted their gaze to the direction Willow was pointing in. 

Nathan looked back and forth between Xander and Spike, and then turned to see the reactions of the others to this unspoken but marked tension. 

Surprisingly, neither Buffy nor Willow seemed to register whatever was clearly going on between Xander and Spike. In fact, they were both waving cheerfully to Davy, who had begun to make his way over to the table. Nathan leaned back thoughtfully, waiting to see how the next newcomer would affect the dynamic.

"Hey, Xander," Davy said quietly as he approached the table, with only a nod for everyone else. "I didn’t know that you were going out tonight."

"Yeah, well," Xander replied, looking slightly alarmed.

"Oh, it’s just that I would’ve invited you to hang out with me if I knew you wanted to do something." Davy gestured to the table. "Do you mind if I --"

"Oh, sure," Spike spat disdainfully, drawing the "sure" out in his most contemptuous impression of an American accent. "The more the merrier, right mate?"

"Shut up, Spike," Buffy said cheerfully. She scooted over to make more room for Davy. 

Davy looked reluctantly at the spot at the table next to Xander, but as no one else seemed inclined to move, he grabbed the seat next to Buffy.

"Jimmy Choos?" Davy asked pointing at Buffy’s heels. 

"Good call," Buffy said. She smiled at him, gesturing to the blank faces around the rest of the table. "I could get used to having a fellow fashionista around. This bunch can’t tell Theory from Mizrahi."

"She is speaking English, right?" Nathan asked Spike in a low voice. 

Spike blinked in surprise, but quickly snickered. "We’ve tried getting her to speak Russian, but she simply refuses."

Nathan grinned. "I’m guessing you don’t speak Russian."

"Not a word after nyet," Spike confirmed, reaching out for his beer to take another swig.

Suddenly a guy lurching through the crowd tripped into a group near them. "Hey," "Ow!" and "Watchit!" suddenly filled the air from the table close by.

"And the crowd started shouting out interjections," Xander observed with a grin.

"Excuse me?" Davy asked politely.

"You know. Interjections! Show emotion! Or excitement!" Xander sang out the Schoolhouse Rock tune and looked at Davy expectantly.

"I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know that one," Davy responded, with a grimace that was clearly meant to look like a smile. 

Xander ducked his head a little. He wasn’t trying to act like a total goof, but he felt like somehow he’d embarrassed Davy. 

"They’re usually followed by an exclamation point," Willow sang out softly, and Xander raised his head to give her a grateful smile.

"Or by a comma, when the feeling’s not as strong," Nathan finished tunefully, nudging Willow’s shoulder.

"Oh," Davy said, nodding like he got it. "You guys are so funny," he continued, trying to humor them. 

The table sat in silence in response to Davy’s remarks. Buffy pretended to brush something off of her shoulder, and surreptitiously checked her watch. Nathan glanced at Davy with some distaste.

Spike set his lips together in a thin line. So what if he’d meant to see just Xander tonight, and the others were an unwelcome intrusion? He’d sulked at first, but there was no point in making the boy unhappy. He especially wasn’t going to let this git, Davy, finish off any possibility of them having a good time. 

Finally, Spike rolled his eyes and growled the next line in the song:

"So when you’re happy . . ."

"Hooray!" Xander responded after a surprised pause, bouncing up in his seat.

"Or sad," Spike sang-growled.

"Awwww," Willow reacted with heartfelt despondence, joining in with a grin.

"Or frightened," Spike straight out sang in his baritone voice.

"Eek!" contributed Buffy.

"Or mad,"

"Rats!" Nathan called out.

"Or excited,"

"Yes!" Xander and Willow cried simultaneously.

"Or glad,"

"Wow!" Buffy pronounced breathily.

"An interjection starts the sentence right!" Spike and Xander finished together.

"Hey," Oz said smoothly, joining the table with a raised eyebrow. "Can we do the pronoun one next?"

Willow squeaked and threw her arms around Oz. Nathan watched the two of them, smiling. Xander was begging Buffy to say "Eek!" again, all the while holding up his hands to ward off her playful punches. And Spike looked across the table at Davy with a menacing smirk, causing Davy to suddenly rouse himself and stand.

"You know, I’ve got a ton of reading to do before tomorrow," Davy said quietly to Nathan. "Can you just let Xander know that I had to take off?" 

"Sure," Nathan replied. He watched Davy go, and then turned back to the table with the evident dislike still playing on his face. He caught Spike’s eye, and shrugged. Spike raised his eyebrow, and gave a curt nod in return. 

"Hey, anyone up for a late sweep?" Buffy said suddenly. 

"In those shoes?" Willow asked incredulously.

"Oh, why not," Buffy airily replied as she tossed her hair. "The grass at the cemetery needs major aeration this time of year anyway."

"Wouldn’t mind seeing a bit of action, myself," Spike said in a low voice.

Xander shivered.

"What’s a sweep, and what kind of action are we looking for?" Nathan asked calmly, and everyone else froze. 

Oz tilted his head to the side, and waited to see how the others would tackle the question. 

"Uhhh," Xander began, and looked desperately around the table for backup.

"We’re in a gang!" Willow said brightly.

"We’re part of a volunteer landscaping squad for the city’s parks and other green spaces," Buffy rushed out at the same time.

"Oh, fuck all, we’re going to kill some vampires and demons. Want to come?" Spike asked in exasperation.

Nathan blinked at them all for a moment, and then smiled easily. "Count me in."

"Okay," Xander snorted. "I think that was the most blasé response we’ve gotten yet to a Scooby invite."

"No, Oz was way more blasé when he found out about vampires at Buffy’s birthday party," Willow answered loyally.

"Are you all going to quit yapping and come along?" Spike shot out. "Xander’s with me," he added, glaring at them all in challenge to potential protests.

No one seemed to mind. And with that, everyone got their coats and drained their drinks, heading for the exit.


	14. What This Looks Like

After a few days respite in patrolling following the night at the Bronze, they'd had to mount an exhausting and futile hunt for Gramarathoni demons. 

The worst part was how fast the things could run -- that night, Buffy had stopped, slumped against the gates of the cemetery, and shaken her fist at the two sprinting away from her. "God! Damn! It!" she gasped out hoarsely by the time Xander caught up with her. Xander gave a brief nod, and collapsed at her feet.

"Y'okay?" Buffy asked. At Xander's shrug, she patted him on the back. She limped around him for a moment, frowning, and then announced "stitch," pointing at her side. 

Xander waved her away, gesturing towards Spike, who was standing nearby drawing on a cigarette. Buffy nodded, raised a weak hand in farewell, and stalked off.

"Need a lift home, pet?" Spike asked sardonically. He'd been stationed at the gate anyway, so he looked cool and collected. He surveyed Buffy, who was gradually disappearing into the distance, and then turned his attention to the gasping Xander still curled on the ground with an even gaze. 

"Lift? Literally," Xander managed, and Spike hauled him to his feet, pulled Xander's arm over his shoulders, and stumbled him home.

Xander dragged more the more distance they traveled, until Spike supported almost all of his weight. 

"Tired," Xander said mournfully as they shuffled onto his street, and Spike gripped him a little closer. 

"Almost there, pet," he whispered.

They finally made it to the apartment door. Spike propped Xander up carefully on the fire-hose box, and thrust his hand into Xander's pocket to get the keys. 

At that point, the door had opened rather suddenly, revealing a disheveled and slightly irritated looking Davy. 

"Hey," Xander waved weakly. 

"Hi," Davy said warily. 

Spike just grunted, and helped Xander inside and to his bedroom. 

"Uh . . . Is he okay?" Davy called out, but Spike had already closed the door. Davy stood silently in the doorway for a moment more, listening anxiously, then retreated to his own room.

"Ooof," Xander observed articulately when Spike nudged him onto the bed. For a moment Spike just stood there, his eyes dark in the unlit room. 

"Need anything, luv?"

But Xander was already asleep. Spike sat on the edge of the bed and brushed a stray lock of hair off Xander's face. He perched there for a while, watching Xander's chest rise and fall, listening to his breathing lighten as he moved into deeper sleep. For just a moment, he rested his hand on Xander's chest, massaging the area over his heart lightly. Then he shrugged, and lay down next to him.

**********

Xander woke up and groaned.

"Everything hurts," he complained aloud.

"S'hardly news," Spike observed, and Xander jumped to his feet in a deft but painful maneuver. 

"Ow," he muttered, glaring at Spike. But Spike merely stretched and repositioned himself, utterly unperturbed. He'd slept on the covers, still in his jeans and t-shirt, but now that Xander had vacated his spot he dove under the blankets until only a tuft of blond hair showed. 

Xander reached down and unthinkingly tucked Spike in. Spike mumbled something incomprehensible.

"Gotta go to work -- you'll be okay here ‘til sunset?" he asked quietly. It was hard to tell if Spike was asleep or not, so Xander poked at the pile of blankets uncertainly.

"Stop that," Spike's voice distinctly ordered. There was a slight pause, and then: "Yeah. See you later."

"Okay, then," Xander said softly. He grabbed his clothes and made for the bathroom. 

There was an early meeting on the site, and his boss had asked him to come by the main office at the end of the day. He really hoped he wasn't getting fired again, but if past events were any predictor of future events, things didn't look so great.

"Have a good day," he called out to Spike, just quietly enough so that he wouldn't wake the vampire up. 

"Mmmmphmm," Spike returned sleepily, already burrowing further into the covers.

**********

"Xander, what's going on? Are you alright?" Davy asked worriedly as Xander dashed into the kitchen to grab a Pop Tart on his way out the door. "Hey, what happened to your arm?" he exclaimed, but Xander just looked at the purpling bruise on his forearm and shrugged. When he pulled on a long-sleeved shirt, it covered any traces of injury anyway.

"Listen, Davy," Xander said in a rush, "Spike's here, okay? He'll stay out of your hair, don't worry -- just be in my room ‘til tonight. Okay?"

Xander didn't wait for an answer before grabbing his things and taking off.

Davy flicked his eyes in the direction of Xander's room. He glanced at the clock, and started getting his books together with a grimace. 

**********

"Giles, you've got to find some way to take the Gramarathoni out. Preferably a way that involves me resting in a stationary position."

Giles looked up at Buffy stretching out her calves. She made a pouting "owie" face as she stopped and fell back onto the couch.

"Willow and I have been working on it," Giles said, pointing to a stack of books. "I'm fairly sure that if we shoot them with --"

"Shooting?" Buffy brightened considerably. "Shooting is good. Oh, but not at close range, right?"

"The spell Willow found will immobilize them," Giles replied.

"And Willow found this spell *when*?" Buffy asked darkly. She rubbed at her thighs petulantly.

"Yes, well . . . I'll come along tonight to do the incantation while you shoot them with the prepared injection."

"Fine. Monsters of the week, begone!" Buffy said weakly, raising her fist slightly in the air.

Giles paused. "There is something else I'd like to speak to you about."

Buffy paled. "I swear I wasn't the one who spilled Diet Coke all over that book. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the stains were there already. Look at that, I said. Someone's been careless. With diet beverages. Before I got here."

"No, that wasn't -- what book?" Giles asked in confusion.

"No book," Buffy assured him hastily. "You were saying?"

He shook the puzzled look off his face and continued. "I'd like to speak to you about Spike and Xander."

"Oh, that's finished," Buffy said absently. "Xander in apartment. Spike in crypt. Problem solved."

Giles raised his eyebrows. "This may be a new problem."

Buffy sat up at once. "Did . . . is Xander okay? Spike didn't try to . . . " Buffy made a waggly fangy gesture at her mouth with her two forefingers.

"No," he answered, looking askance. "I wonder if we'd considered that the ramifications of separating the two of them might in fact result in . . . That is to say, if one of them registers an intimate connection to the other, and such impulses are not returned directly. . . Well, the results of an unexpected attempt could be painful." 

Giles shook his head mournfully and continued. "And if these circumstances stem from the initial coerced removal of one of the parties in question, then are we not implicated in the ensuing conclusion?" He finished the question with a flourish of his hand, and looked to Buffy expectantly.

Buffy gaped. "Giles, can you dumb it down a little?"

Giles rolled his eyes and spoke slowly. "I believe Xander has what you would call a crush on Spike, and I wonder if it isn't the result of our overenthusiastic encouragement to have the two of them live apart. If Xander acts on this crush, and Spike does not return his feelings, I worry about what will occur next."

"Huh?" Buffy returned with widened eyes. 

She stood up and began to pace, wincing slightly when she rounded the couch on stiff legs. "Xander. A crush. On Spike. Wait. Wait a second here. Hold on."

"Holding," Giles answered, and settled himself back in his chair to wait.

She stopped and pressed her palm to her forehead, squinting her eyes. "And never mind the fact that I thought Xander was as straight as an arrow, but why do you think that's going to cause a problem? Xander liked me in high school. I turned him down. We're cool now. I think Spike can handle it. Someone must've gotten googly-eyed over Spike before in the hundred plus years he's been around." Buffy considered briefly. "At least, like, one person, right?"

"We know from the Watchers' accounts that Spike certainly used his charm and, erm, attractions to aid him in the kill . . . but quite frankly, humans have been merely food to him until quite recently. We have no way of predicting his reaction to emotional overture, but all past behaviors indicate that he responds to problems with violent solutions. And whereas Spike in his chipped state might manipulate a situation using psychological means . . . "

"He could make Xander feel pretty lousy," Buffy said softly. 

"And whatever Xander's preferences in general, I think it safe to say he's never considered directing his affection towards another male, never mind a vampire--"

"And if this is a," Buffy waved her hand around vaguely, "a newish thing with Xander, liking guys . . . the reaction could hurt him. A lot." Buffy sighed. "You're right Giles. We don't want Xander in this situation. I'll check it out and see what's the what." 

"It's good of you to involve yourself in this, Buffy," Giles said seriously. "I know your schoolwork and slaying activities involve enormous amounts of commitment, and to direct your attention to this issue --"

"It's Xander," Buffy replied simply. 

"Yes," Giles said fondly. "Yes it is."

**********

Xander eased open the door to his room. It had been dark for an hour now, but just as he'd suspected there was still a Spike-shaped lump on top of his bed. 

He stopped for a moment, and smiled unconsciously. Spike had flung off the top half of the covers, and lay with t-shirt rumpled and his lips parted. They moved slightly, as though he was dreaming of kissing someone gently.

Xander put down his things quietly, trying not to wake Spike. It had been so long since Spike had even come over here, and he didn't want to make him feel -- and Xander came to a halt when an idea struck him. The last time Spike had been here, he had . . . Oh, turnabout was so very much fair play.

He pounced on the bed, and began to tickle Spike mercilessly.

"Waaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!" Spike wailed in shock.

"See how you like it!" Xander yelled gleefully. He straddled Spike and dove in for the most ticklish spot of all, just under the waistband.

Spike thrashed around, still waking up, giggling, trying to ward off more Xander-touches and attempting to squirm away all at once.

"Hah!" Xander exclaimed triumphantly as Spike tried and failed to turn them over. But the move cost them their balance, and they both rolled off the bed, hitting the floor hard.

"Ouch," Xander murmured. Since he'd been holding on so hard to Spike, they'd landed with Spike on top of him with Xander's legs still wrapped around Spike from the straddling.

They blinked at each other for a moment, and then Spike reached down and brushed a dust bunny off of Xander's neck.

"Thanks," Xander said slowly. Neither one of them moved. 

When the doorbell rang, they both looked irritated, but then extricated themselves from their tangle. 

When Xander opened the door, though, he smiled broadly. Nathan gave a wave, and nodded to Spike, who was sulking on the couch.

"Hey, just wanted to drop by since I haven't seen you, and . . . I'm really interrupting something, aren't I?" Nathan glanced at Spike's rumpled state and Xander's messed up hair with amusement.

"Yeah, you are," Spike said shortly. Then he followed with "not that you'd be different from anyone else in that, mind you."

Nathan and Xander grinned wryly at each other. Ever since Nathan had been assigned to them on the night of patrol after the Bronze group sing-along, it seemed fairly clear that Spike thought Nathan was okay. Xander wasn't quite sure how Nathan had endeared himself to the vampire, but he was glad that at least Spike liked *one* of his new friends.

"No problem. I'll take off and see you later," Nathan said. 

"No," Spike said, cutting him off. "I was just leaving anyway."

"Oh, okay," Xander said nervously.

"That doesn't sound like that was the plan," Nathan said gently. "You should stay. I'll go."

"No plan! No one planned to do anything!" Xander observed loudly. They both looked at him oddly, and he would have shrugged if his shoulders weren't already up by his ears. 

"See you, mate," Spike called out. He was already halfway down the hall heading to the elevator. Xander watched him as the elevator doors closed. Then he watched the closed elevator doors stay closed as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Sorry," Nathan offered.

"Don't be silly," Xander said in an unusually high voice. He cleared his throat and closed the door. "Hey, want something to drink? And I taped ~Alias~ if you want to watch."

"Count me in," Nathan agreed.


	15. Different Taste Combinations

"So what brings you over to Chez Harris?" Xander asked. "Is it the snacks? The laugh-a-minute atmosphere? The desire to hunt down more vampires with my wacky friends?"

"Um, all of the above?" Nathan replied. His eyebrows twitched a little with good humor. 

Xander waved him over to the couch, and went to get food. "Glad you went with us the other night," he observed from the kitchenette.

"You hang with an interesting group of people," Nathan said. "That Buffy -- she's something else."

"Isn't she just?" Xander agreed. He gestured to the piles of food he brought over to the couch. "We have Coke, we have Ho-Hos, we have salty salty chips. Good?"

"Good," Nathan responded. They sat on the couch together and munched in silence for a moment.

"So," Xander said heartily. Then he dropped his eyes and said hesitantly, "Uh, thanks for the book you gave me."

Nathan nodded, prying apart a Ho-Ho with ease and sticking his tongue into the filling. "Glad you liked. It's a good one."

"Right," Xander said, sighed. Why didn't anyone else have to deal with the kind of stuff he was forced to . . . Then he did a double-take. 

"You think it's good?" Xander asked. "I mean, you'd recommend it. Based on your own reading experience, huh? If someone wanted to know if they should check it out, would you say that you'd give it the thumbs up based on your own personal opinion of it? Like, say -- "

"Yes," Nathan said.

"Yes to which?" Xander asked.

"Yes, I'm bi. That's what you're asking."

"Ah!" Xander offered, nodding vigorously. "Yes indeedy. Makes sense. Since you, uh, grabbed that book so quick like you'd read it and . . . I'm sorry, this is really . . . I'm not really taking-in-stride guy, here, am I?"

"That's cool," Nathan answered. "You're doing fine."

Xander stuffed a handful of chips into his mouth so that he'd shut up.

"So," Nathan began. "Do Oz and Willow date other people?"

Little pieces of chips flew out of Xander's mouth as he choked. 

"Um." Xander cleared his throat and tried again. "Uh, they're kinda together, you know, so not so much with the seeing of others on the romantic level. You like . . . Oz? What with the bi, and all . . . Because I kind of thought that Willow liked you. Not that -- I mean, she's _with_ Oz. Just because she likes you, even in a like _like_ way doesn't mean -- they've been together since, well except for that one time, which wasn't my fault _at all_ , and am I answering this right?"

"I think you misunderstood my question," Nathan said with a wry look. "I don't mean do they, individually, date other people. I mean do _they_ date other people. Kind of a two-for, know what I'm saying?"

Xander blinked. Nathan waited patiently for this latest bit of information to sink in.

"Oh, god," Xander said miserably. "And I thought I was all fucked up."

Nathan laughed easily at this. "That's why I like you Xander. You don't hold back. And you're not fucked up. You just . . . like boys."

"Oh, just," Xander said somewhat hysterically. He cracked his knuckles and slumped on the couch. Then he brightened.

"Hey, at least I'm not looking for some kind of threesome -- not that there's anything wrong with that -- but does that make me more normal? Well, except for . . . and that was just a dream thing! And --" 

Nathan let Xander babble on a bit, fast-forwarding through the commercials to get to the start of the ~Alias~ episode. By the time he'd reached it and paused the tape, Xander had calmed considerably and was now sipping his Coke thoughtfully.

Nathan cocked his head at Xander in an inquiring glance. 

"I was just thinking," Xander said slowly. "I've been kind of wigged, and not talking to anyone about this, but it's kind of cool that you know where I'm coming from. You know?"

"Yeah," Nathan nodded. 

"And I don't think you're all fucked up," Xander added hastily.

"Good to know," Nathan responded. "Because I sure don't."

 

********

 

Over the next week, Buffy thought and thought about Xander and Spike, but she wasn't sure how to take the next step to protect Xander's feelings. 

She had dragged Spike on patrol with her for a few nights, but that turned up nothing. If Spike had any crafty, humiliating plans for her friend, she couldn't figure them out.

Then she showed up at Xander's twice with movies and Chunky Monkey, but Davy being there both times had killed any attempts at emotional sleuth-age. Buffy wished she could ask him to take off so that she could get Xander on his own. But Davy seemed like he wanted to stay where Xander was these days, so no dice asking Xander straight up if he liked Spike in a boyfriend-y way.

Just thinking about Spike and Xander didn't seem to yield any answers, though she did have several odd, stirring visions of Xander macking on Spike against the wall of the Bronze. 

But what she thought about in her Western Ethics class was her own business.

Well, if the boys wouldn't yield any clues to her, maybe they'd spoken to someone else that she could press for details. 

An afternoon with Clem at the crypt provided nothing more than an enthusiastic endorsement of The Gnarly Kelps, the half-human, half-demon brother-sister rock duo playing at Dale's Demon Den. When she brought up the topic of Spike and Xander, he kept leaping up to get her another beverage. After four cans of Sierra Mist and two cranapple boxes, Buffy had given up and gone home to pee. 

So it was down to Xander's friends. If Xander wasn't talking to her about Spike, well, that left one other possibility. Willow.

She decided to bring it up in a casual way -- get a feel for the situation first, and then try to find out what Willow knew Xander-wise these days.

"You know, there was a really interesting problem posed in psychology section today," Buffy announced from her perch on her bed. They were both in the room studying, and Buffy had surreptitiously watched Willow over the top of her Writing and Thinking course packet for over an hour before speaking.

Willow looked up from her desk. "Oh, cool -- I wish I was in your section!" She frowned slightly. "My TA keeps asking me if I've taken the class before. I think no one's ever gotten all 105 points on the midterm in past semesters."

Buffy nodded impatiently and continued. "See, we were discussing the complications of emotional attachments, and the TA brought up the problem of broaching the topic of mutual attraction."

"That sounds interesting," Willow said, turning her chair around to face Buffy. 

"So it's like, what if one person has interest in another. But that person really shouldn't. Have the interest. Because circumstances being what they are, there's no way it's going to work. Then how do you make that first person see that they shouldn't feel that way? Especially because the second person won't even return those feelings, and it could mess everything up for the first person, and -- "

"I don't want to like Nathan," Willow cried suddenly.

"What? Huh?" Buffy asked in confusion. "I was talking about _Xander_."

"Xander has a crush on Nathan?" Willow asked in a more strained tone.

"No, no -- don't be ridiculous." Buffy felt panicked, and tried to make everything better. "Who said anything about Nathan? Xander has a crush on _Spike_."

"Xander has a crush on _Spike_?" Willow shrieked.

They both sat, stunned, and stared at each other for a moment.

"Wow, this really didn't go like I thought it would," Buffy frowned.

"Um, I'm not sure I want to know how it was supposed to go," Willow said softly. She moved from the desk and sat on her bed to face Buffy.

"So . . . " Buffy observed. 

"Yeah," Willow said unhappily.

"You and Nathan?" Buffy asked.

"No me _and_ Nathan," Willow corrected. "Just _me_ and Nathan."

"But it could be. You. And Nathan. If you want. Couldn't it?"

"There's Oz," Willow said quietly.

"There sure is," Buffy affirmed. She cleared her throat. "But Will, it's not . . . you're not . . . Oz is your first boyfriend. Maybe . . . "

"What?" Willow asked.

"Maybe you want to date other people. Do you want to try dating Nathan?" Buffy asked slowly.

"He's nice, you know. And kind of cool. In a dorky way, but cute. Like he doesn't care about stuff. He's really smart, and funny, and we have a lot to talk about, and his eyes are kind of pretty, and he has good shoulders, and . . . and I really shouldn't be thinking about other guys," Willow concluded.

"You're not a nun or something," Buffy said kindly. "It's not weird that you find another guy attractive. Just -- do you want to see other guys? Or do you want to be with Oz?"

"That's the bad part," Willow said with wide eyes. "I kind of . . . kind of want them both."

Buffy raised her eyebrows.

"I'm a horrible, horrible girlfriend!" Willow wailed. She flopped down on the bed sideways. 

"Willow, you haven't done anything that makes you bad. You just feel things. That's okay."

"Yeah, but I even felt . . . wait a minute." Willow sat up.

"Yeah?"

"Xander likes Spike?" Willow blinked.

"Maybe," Buffy said nervously. She'd sort of hoped that had fallen by the wayside. One major issue seemed like enough to deal with in a night.

"God, am I that repulsive?" Willow asked. She curled up into a ball on the bed and snuffled. 

Buffy handed her Mr. Gordo silently and waited a moment.

"Willow, maybe I'm not following here, but what does Xander have to do with any of this? And why would you say that about yourself just because he _might_ like Spike?" she inquired.

"It's just . . . Xander likes people he's supposed to hate, and he never liked me? What's wrong with me?"

"Willow, you don't want to date Xander too, do you?" Buffy asked. "Because I mean, I can be flexible and understanding about you dating two guys, but . . . three guys? C'mon Will. I mean, you're only human. How will you keep track?"

Willow looked confused. Then she started giggling and pulled out of her self-pity posture.

"No, no," Willow said hastily. "It's just funny, you know? Xander. . . I don't like him that way anymore, but I feel a little . . ."

"Proprietary?" Buffy smiled.

"Yeah," Willow said shamefacedly. Then she rolled her eyes. "Listen to me. I mean, I didn't have a date for years, and now I expect all the boys at my feet." She looked at Buffy expectantly.

Buffy nodded seriously, but her mouth twitched. 

Willow scrunched up her face at her for a moment, then grinned. "All the men in Sunnydale must be mine. Mine, I tell you!!" She waved her arms around wildly.

"That sounds fair . . . not," Buffy giggled. "Hey, save me some of your cast offs, ‘kay?"

"Will do!" Willow replied, bouncing on her bed a little. But her face fell as something else occurred to her. "Buffy, do you think I should . . . talk to Oz about this?"

"Um . . . " Buffy stalled. "Well . . . "

"What if I hurt him? What if I talk to Nathan and he doesn't even like me -- I'll feel so lousy! They could both end up hating me! What if I just end up upsetting everyone?"

"People might get hurt," Buffy agreed. "But maybe you just have to take that risk. Isn't it worth finding out what you want -- what's right for you? If we never did anything because we worried only about getting hurt, we'd never try to have relationships. Would it be worth it, being lonely because of fear?" 

"Can't I date Nathan a few times to see how I feel about it, then decide?" Willow asked.

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "We are talking about Oz, right? The all jealous-‘cause-you-kissed-your-best-friend-one-time-guy?"

Willow just groaned and fell sideways on her bed again, clutching Mr. Gordo.

"Think about it for a while," Buffy advised. 

"Okay," Willow replied quietly. "Trying to show no fear -- embracing risks. Can't let the worry about being hurt stop me from figuring out what I want."

"Right," Buffy said firmly, then trailed off when she realized what she and Willow were saying.

She turned back to her packet with unseeing eyes, and pushed her hair out of her face thoughtfully. How come she was giving Willow advice that was so totally opposite of what Giles wanted her to persuade Xander? 

 


	16. Picking Up the Pace

Davy glanced at the kitchen clock and turned to look at the door. 

Usually Xander came home around 3 or 4pm after a day at the site, but now it was almost 6:30pm. Davy had gotten used to having Xander around when he had stuff ready for dinner; without realizing it, they'd come to establish a pattern of eating together most nights. But the last week or so he'd been eating alone, and he didn't much care for it. 

Was it that Xander was getting back together with that Spike guy? Davy hadn't caught a glance of him after that night a week before, but then again he'd barely seen Xander either with the hours he said he was putting in at work. Or maybe he was off doing something else besides work?

With a frown, Davy lowered the oven temperature. 

"Hey," Xander exclaimed, bursting into the apartment. "That smells fantastic." He pointed at Davy. "*You* are a talented, talented man."

Davy smiled slowly, noticing how good Xander looked today. He always looked fuck-worthy, but dressed in slightly nicer clothes than what he usually wore to the site, and laughing with such openness . . . well, it made Davy wish things were moving along faster than they were. Really hot, though, in more preppie boy gear than he usually sported, khakis and a collared shirt with a light blue and green plaid pattern . . .

". . . and you haven't heard anything I just said," Xander announced with a grin. "What's up with you? Got other things on your mind?" He waggled his eyebrows at Davy.

At this Davy laughed. Sure, Xander *thought* he was making a joke, but Davy knew flirting when he saw it, even if Xander didn't quite get that that's what he was doing. Maybe this was developing faster than he'd realized.

"You're in an awfully good mood," he observed, moving to pull the dish from the oven.

"Well, I think an assistant foreman is allowed to enjoy the good life," Xander said grandly. He swaggered over to the kitchen counter and leaned on it expectantly. 

Davy paused from straightening up and putting the steaming dish on the cooling rack, to look at Xander with slight confusion. 

"Um, you get that I'm telling you I got a promotion, right?" Xander asked anxiously. "New assistant foreman meaning me?" When Davy smiled, he excitedly started to tick off the list of new benefits on his fingers. "Pay raise, new title, in charge of my own crew on the team, *and* I get my own desk in the trailer with open access to the supply cabinet no less." He stopped to grin at Davy. "Want to be the first to congratulate me?" he wrapped up and stuck out his hand.

"Don't you think we're past the hand shaking stage?" Davy said with amusement. He reached out and pulled Xander into a tight hug for a moment, then stepped back. "Congratulations -- you definitely deserve it."

"Yeah," Xander said with an odd look on his face. He remained standing in hugging position, as if he was trying to grasp what had just happened.

Davy sighed. One step forward, two steps back . . . whatever. "You want eggplant parmesan?" he asked.

"That really doesn't sound like it has meat in it, but yeah, I'll give it a go. Everything you make is really good," Xander said with a shrug. "Do you want me to make a salad or something? It's just mostly lettuce in a bowl, right? I can do lettuce in a bowl. You want me to throw some tomatoes on top?"

"Salad's all made, garlic bread in the oven . . . maybe you could just set the table and pour us some drinks," Davy said smoothly as he flicked off the oven and turned to get the napkins.

"And we have dinner," Xander said. He bounded over with enthusiasm to get the dishes. 

After getting everything set, Xander paused and leaned on the counter again. "It's cool to see you," he said.

"What do you mean?" Davy asked. 

"You know, I just feel like we haven't really run into one another for a while here." Xander answered, eyeing the garlic bread as Davy put it in a basket. 

"True," Davy answered. "Feels like I haven't seen you in weeks!" 

"Like over a month practically."

They smiled at each other, and moved everything over to the small table to begin the meal.

Davy dished out the entree. "Seems like you've been working a lot this week, but I guess the impending promotion explains that."

"Yeah," Xander answered. "Figured it couldn't hurt to put in the extra time, and I guess it paid off."

"Let's see," Davy mused, as though he really needed to think hard to remember. "I think the last time we spoke, even if it was just for a second, it was the day after you came home with Spike."

Xander's face shut down a little. "Yeah, that sounds right," he said with a forced smile.

"Seen him much since that time that he stayed over?" Davy asked casually.

"Not so much," Xander answered. "We usually . . . hang out with a group of people that we both know, and do stuff . . . but I haven't really seen any of them lately, plus . . . "

Davy made a sympathetic face. "It can be tough when people come in and out of your life like that," he said softly.

"I'll see him again soon," Xander said in an uncertain voice.

Davy braced himself a little, and went in for the kill. "Are you sure that you want to see him?" he asked.

"Want to . . . yeah, sure . . . we're friends, you know?" Xander replied. His eyes betrayed a hint of confusion and something more that Davy couldn't quite read.

"It's weird sometimes, isn't it? When you can't figure out if you can be 'just friends' anymore or if you're beyond that stage?" Davy prompted.

Xander dropped his head a little and began to eat with swiftness. "Wow, this sure is good. I don't think you can even taste that it doesn't have meat in it at all. The cheese probably does that. Gotta have the cheese, right?" He stuck a slice of garlic bread in his mouth and chewed.

"Okay," Davy said. "I'll drop it. I'm not trying to pin you down on your relationship with Spike. It's just that I worry about you. I don't want you to . . . "

"To what?" Xander asked with wide eyes.

"To get hurt," Davy said meaningfully.

They were both quiet for a moment.

Davy reached across the table and put his hand on Xander's. "Listen, all I'm saying is that if you ever feel like talking about it, or even just hanging out, and not talking about it, I'm around."

Xander sighed. "Maybe. Yeah. I don't know. But thanks." He got up and began clearing dishes. "Oh, and thanks for dinner," he said suddenly. His face changed from its preoccupied expression and he grinned at Davy. "You're going to make some man very happy one day."

"I can live with that," Davy said with a smile.

 

**********

 

Nathan knocked a third time on the door. Fortunately, the knock seemed to come at a break in the fast and furious drumming inside, and he could hear someone stomping over to the door.

He was greeted with the site of a petite girl with black hair tipped with green. "Yeah?" she said impatiently.

"Heard the Dingoes were rehearsing here," Nathan said.

The girl narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "And that means I should let you in why now?"

"I'm just looking for Oz," Nathan said with a half-smile.

"Oh!" she said in surprise. "Oh, that's cool." She stepped back enough to let him squeeze in the door. "I thought you came looking for Devon," she whispered at him confidentially, and grabbed his arm to steer him towards the kitchen. "If you want coffee, there are mugs in the drainer."

"You his bodyguard?" Nathan asked with a grin, shaking his head to the offer of coffee.

"Just to keep away all the fangirls who want to get on their knees for him," she answered nonchalantly. "And, you know, fanboys," she said with a quick once-over and a slight wink at him. "Gotta protect the investment, you know what I'm saying?" 

"Sure," Nathan said mock-seriously. "You've been keeping him on a short leash?"

She appraised him and rewarded him with a winning smile. "It's the only way to fly."

"Okay, then," Nathan laughed. 

"Come on," she said excitedly, pulling him by the hand. Clearly she now considered Nathan her new best friend. "The guys are practicing downstairs. They're almost finished, then they break until tonight's gig."

"Keep up, alright? Can you do that?" Devon was asking Tianhu, who looked at Zack behind the drum set, an unspoken "You see?" written on his irritated expression. Zack tipped his head towards Devon, clearly indicating that he agreed that it wasn't them who were off. Rhythm section solidarity. 

"Might be time for a break," Oz noted. 

Devon rolled his eyes, but he backed off and grabbed a water bottle from the floor. He stalked over to speak to the girl who'd let Nathan in

"Hey," Nathan said quietly from the door.

"Oh, hey," Oz said. The corners of his mouth quirked a little and he set his guitar down and walked over. "How'd you find us here?"

"I'm a resourceful guy," Nathan said. Oz raised an eyebrow. "What, I am," Nathan said with a laugh. "Do you have some time?"

Oz leaned to rest his back on the door frame and smiled at Nathan. "How resourceful are you at finding good pancakes in this town?" Oz asked. "Because I'm starving, and breakfast is good any time of day." 

"I think I can help you out there." Nathan shifted towards Oz and smiled. "Want me to drive?"

 

**********

 

"I won't do it!" Buffy said plaintively as Giles opened the door to his apartment.

"You won't do what?" Giles asked in confusion at finding Buffy already seated on his couch. "What are you doing here? Is everything all right?"

"No, everything is not all right," Buffy said. She crossed her arms and spoke again with passion. "I won't be an enemy to love." 

Giles looked at her blankly for a moment, and then sat down next to her with a sigh.

"Am I to presume you are referring to Spike and Xander?"

Buffy shot him a "well, duh," look. Giles sighed.

"Since when did the situation between the two become that emotionally complicated?"

"It hasn't," Buffy said honestly. "At least I don't think it has yet. But that doesn't mean that it couldn't. And I don't see anymore why we get to say it shouldn't."

Giles rubbed at his chin. "Might I ask where all of this is coming from?"

"Well, I talked to Will last week about needing to take risks, and doing scary things because of how we'd never be in relationships if we didn't and . . . and okay, so it sounded a lot more convincing when we were eating Mallomars and watching Conan at 2am, but I've thought about it, and I think I'm right. What if you'd tried to stop me being with Angel, just because I might get hurt?"

"You did get hurt," Giles reminded her gently.

"Do you think you're more worried about Xander getting hurt than the rest of us?" Buffy asked quietly.

"I don't know, truthfully. If you'd asked me that question months ago, I would have said of course not, you're all adults, and as such free to make your own decisions."

"But now . . . maybe you feel differently about it," Buffy said.

Giles looked away from her. "Maybe I do. You don't have to agree with me. You can do as you like, and certainly you can support your friends as you see fit. But I can't . . . "

"You can't support Xander?" Buffy asked. The words came out sounding sharper than she'd meant, and she half-smiled at the end to show she intended no harm.

"Not . . . not yet." Giles said distantly. "I need to establish some things first." He glanced at Buffy, who was watching him with a skeptical look on her face. "I hardly think you need be anxious about this. I may be wrong in my concern, but I'd like to consider the available information before I decide. I just need to do a little more reading, more investigation, more . . . "

"More stalling?" Buffy asked. She sighed. "Look, Giles, this isn't going to get resolved with any watcher's accounts, if that's what you're thinking. If you have doubts, if there are questions that are bugging you, then you need to go right to the source."

"What are you saying?" Giles asked slowly.

"I'm saying," Buffy answered seriously, "that you need to talk to Spike."

 

**********

 

Xander closed his bedroom door gently behind him, walked quietly to the wood table he used as a desk and sat down. He remained still for a moment, thinking about the conversation that he'd had with Davy over dinner. Then he hunched his shoulders forward and began to bang his head, slowly and rhythmically, against the table-top. 

"Hey, everything okay in there?"

"Oh yeah," Xander answered back to Davy's question. "Everything's just peachy."

He listened for the footfalls as Davy walked back to his own room, and groaned softly. So much for hiding his lusty thoughts about Spike. It seemed like Davy had figured it all out, and on top of it all he was suggesting that Xander would get hurt if he tried to take things with Spike to another level. 

Well, so what if Davy knew? As long as Davy didn't figure out that he'd occasionally had lusty thoughts about *him* too, then Xander was only partially humiliated to death. 

But what was up with Davy thinking that Spike would hurt him? That wouldn't happen -- would it? Well, it wasn't like he could ask anyone without being confession-guy about liking Spike. And it wasn't like he could ask Spike . . . 

"Screw it," Xander said under his breath. "I can't wrap my head around this. Not so good with the working out of confusing signals."

He brightened when he saw his caller ID light up in the split second before the phone rang. "Ah, the Buffster. The Bat Phone beckons."

"Slaying?" he asked cheerfully as he picked up the receiver.

"You were thinking maybe I'd call asking you to be my mambo partner?"

"What time and where?" Xander asked, pulling off his good work shirt and reaching for his patrolling clothes.

"How about nowish and hereish?" Buffy asked.

"Works for me," Xander said.

"Oh, and Xander?"

"Yeah?"

"You're with Spike tonight," Buffy said firmly.


	17. Pancakes and Predators

"I'll buy," Oz said. When Nathan raised his eyebrows, Oz shrugged.

He and Nathan slid into the booth that had just opened at the Donut House Diner, and Nathan pushed the top menu in Oz's direction.

"Is that how it works? I wasn't sure if I should offer to pay, considering I'm the groupie," Nathan said. They nodded at the waitress when she stopped by to drop off water and fill their mugs with coffee, and Oz flipped a half-and-half container to Nathan.

Oz smiled slowly. "Nah. I think you're supposed to try to filch the food from the backstage spread while I'm performing. At least that's how they do it in the VH1 specials."

"Too bad you don't have a backstage spread yet at your shows. A guy could starve waiting for your band to hit the big time." Nathan took a sip of coffee and studied the menu. "You usually work out who's footing the bill this early in the meal?"

"I find it clears things up," Oz said.

"What kind of things?" Nathan asked, looking intently at him.

"Well, if we haggle at the end of the meal over who picks up the check, it casts a retroactive weirdness over everything. You know, like if one person pays, hanging out meant something to them, and if the other person insists on paying instead in response, it's as though they don't want it to mean much." Oz slid the sugar packets over towards Nathan and watched him open two into his coffee. "Or worse," he continued, draining off most of his water, "you split the expense, and you figure out the other person is a cheap bastard that calculates his share of the tip down to the penny on a fifteen-percent scale. And you start asking yourself, is this guy the kind of person I want to be eating pancakes with? I offer at the beginning, it gets resolved, and none of the odd."

"Except of course that now it's odd because I'm wondering what you do or don't want eating pancakes with me to mean," Nathan observed.

"There is that," Oz agreed. 

The waitress paused to grunt at them, and they placed their order: two regular stacks, home fries, a side of scrambled eggs and one large OJ.

"I have another way to take out the oddness," Nathan offered. "I can tell you what's on my mind."

"Shoot," Oz said.

"I'm interested in you."

Oz paused with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth then lowered it back to the table. "You don't really get shy about this kind of thing, do you?" Oz asked.

"Not so much," Nathan said. 

"You have met my girlfriend Willow, right? Yea high, red hair?" Oz waved a little Willow-shaped gesture in the air.

"I haven't forgotten about Willow. And I wouldn't ask you to cheat on your girlfriend." Nathan paused. "I wouldn't bring it up to you if . . . look, it's not just you I'm interested in."

Oz's brow furrowed. A beat or two passed, and then Oz widened his eyes a little. Then his face cleared, and he tightened his fingers almost imperceptibly where they gripped the edge of the table. "Well," Oz remarked slowly, "that's new and different." 

At that point the waitress came over and deposited their order on the table. Nathan drizzled syrup over his pancakes while Oz watched him silently. He bit into a forkful and then blinked at Oz. "Want to go to the movies sometime, all three of us?" Nathan asked casually.

Oz laughed out loud. "Movies? After what you just said . . . well, it sounds a little pedestrian. I thought you'd say you wanted us to . . . " and he trailed off, grinning crookedly.

Nathan shrugged, crinkling up his nose as he smiled. "Come with me to my boudoir of the many and varied sexual positions?"

Oz raised his eyebrows. "Something like that."

Nathan nodded. "I don't want to just fuck around with you . . . either of you."

"Okay," Oz said guardedly. "You want something more."

Nathan rolled his shoulders forward and back. "Hey, I'm not ready to give both of you engagement rings either," he said to reassure Oz, who was regarding him seriously. "I just want to go on a date with you both. See what happens."

Oz cleared his throat. "I'll have to talk to Willow."

Nathan ducked his head down and grinned. "That doesn't sound like a no."

"True," Oz said, smearing butter all over his pancakes. "But it's not exactly a yes either."

**********

"In you go," Spike said shortly, carrying Xander into the apartment and setting him down on the kitchen counter.

"You didn't have to carry me the whole way," Xander said faintly. "So the scaly thingies went right after me, ignoring everyone else in their quest to cut me into ribbons. They barely got me."

"They barely got you all over your arms and chest, right through your clothing," Spike replied in a muffled voice as he hunted under the sink for the first aid kit they had always kept there. He grunted when he found the container, and turned back to Xander, efficiently stripping him of his shirt and t-shirt. 

"Fuck," he breathed when he saw the extent of the damage. It was mostly surface scratches, but the cuts needed immediate attention so that they wouldn't become infected. Spike could already tell that Xander would have some nasty bruises on his torso in the morning.

"Had to go jumping into the fray, trying to distract them," Spike said darkly. "Made yourself such an easy target that they weren't interested in taking on the rest of us."

"What can I say?" Xander asked, frowning down on the scrapes and tears on his body. "I'm a delightful treat much coveted in the demon community."

Spike snorted. "Oh, you're a treat all right. Next you'll have them banging at your door trying to get at you."

"Banging at my door? You don't think that those scaly dudes could shimmy up the fire escape and get me in here, do you?" Xander asked frantically. He scootched closer to Spike, then scootched away when he figured out that Spike had gotten a hold of the iodine. 

"Hold still, won't you?" Spike said with a low growl.

"I'm trying to hold still, it's just that the shaking with fear is getting in the way," Xander said. "Also the shaking with anticipated pain from that goop you're going to dab on me." 

He moved away from Spike again, but stopped when Spike took his wrist firmly. Xander looked at him with wide eyes, trying to figure out why Spike looked so pissed off. 

"What do you have to be afraid of now?" Spike asked with more than a hint of anger. He pulled out cotton balls from the first aid kit and raised his voice. "How are the baddies going to hurt you? I'm here, aren't I? You think I can't protect you, or that I won't help you? You think that I won't take care of you?" he finished in a near-shout.

"Keep it down," Xander said with a nervous wave of his hand. "You'll wake up Davy."

"Oh, bloke needs his beauty sleep," Spike said with an eye roll. "Won't do to have him lazing about waiting for you to take up his standing offer if he has circles under his eyes."

"Shut up," Xander said absently, and then screeched slightly when the iodine-soaked cotton made contact with his scrapes. "There is no standing offer," he gasped out after huffing a little to ease the stinging. 

"You keep telling yourself that," Spike said, glaring at Xander's wounded shoulder.

"In spite of your attempts to get me good and freaked out about him making passes at me, he hasn't done anything . . . "

"Untoward?" Spike asked with an arched brow.

"Un-to-what?" Xander asked. "I was going to say . . . I don't know, nothing sexy, or physical that's overly grope-y."

"It's just that you're waiting for him to do something 'sexy' or 'grope-y', I imagine," Spike said with a quick look back at Xander.

"Give me a break," Xander shot back. "You're the one that's acting all weird about this, giving me ideas about stuff that isn't even happening, making me feel all self-conscious when I'm with him. It's like being around you puts these thoughts into my head, and . . . just quit it."

"I'll quit it when you deal with what's going on here," Spike answered. "Unless you want to go ahead and ignore this . . . " He stopped, waiting for the reply.

"I'm not trying to ignore anything," Xander said desperately. "Things happen, and I think I know what's going on, and then I don't see you for days and I don't have a clue about what you're thinking. I have no idea how I'm supposed to react to any of this . . . or what this even is . . ."

They were both silent for a long moment, each of them thinking about the unnamed "this" in the conversation. 

Spike finished applying the iodine and Xander bore it without remark. 

"There," Spike said shortly. "All disinfected and ready for more cutting up on the morrow."

"Thanks a lot," Xander said in a half-joking, half-petulant voice. 

Spike said nothing, instead focusing on capping the bottles and packages and shoving them back in the container with the rest of the bandages and ointments.

Xander watched his motions with wide eyes. "Okay, let me try that again. Thanks," he said in a low voice. 

"Welcome," Spike returned gruffly. 

"I'm sorry if . . . Spike, I'm sorry." Xander mumbled, focusing on the linoleum.

"Got nothing to be sorry for."

"No, I do . . . I . . . " Xander began earnestly, but trailed off. 

Spike edged closer to him, bringing his hand up to cup Xander's cheek and to raise his face. "Forget about what I said about your stupid roommate. You think you know what he wants? Fine. But know this. I'll always keep you safe and take care of you. No matter what."

"Oh," Xander said intelligently. Spike was now stroking his cheek softly, his blue eyes locked onto Xander's face. Xander reached up, combing through Spike's hair with a light touch. "I do know that," he said seriously.

"Remember it," Spike answered, bringing Xander's face slowly and deliberately towards his own. 

A small noise escaped Xander's mouth just as their lips touched. Spike's mouth brushed feather-light against his, sending a shiver up Xander's back. "Oh," Xander said again, and buried his fingers further into Spike's hair, pulling them together in a sudden motion. 

Spike murmured something, but it was lost in Xander's mouth as the two of them pressed closer. 

Spike slid his hands carefully over Xander's injured shoulders, bringing them down to rest on the small of Xander's back. Seemingly without conscious thought, Xander parted his legs further, allowing Spike to move into the space against the counter and letting him draw Xander's body flush to his own.

They kissed slowly, rapturously. Spike parted his lips, pushing against Xander slightly to urge the mirroring response. Then he realized that Xander was pulling backward a little, and he moved away from him. Was this too much too soon? Yet even at this moment of doubt, Spike couldn't resist caressing Xander's lips one last time with his own before pulling away completely.

"Need to breathe," Xander said wonderingly once they had parted. His hand flew up to his mouth to touch his swollen lips. "Um, Spike . . . "

"Yeah," Spike managed, his eyes drawn to the bare expanse of Xander's injured chest and back again to those full lips. "What?"

"What just happened?"

Spike opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a gasp. Davy stood in the hallway, taking in Xander's cuts, rising bruises, and the air of tension in the room.

"Holy shit," Davy said loudly. "What the hell happened to you, Xander?" His eyes flashed as he turned to Spike. "What the fuck did you do to him?"

"He didn't do anything to me," Xander said in surprise. He shook his head to clear it. What was Davy talking about anyway? But he didn't even get a chance to find out, because Spike had already jumped in, more than ready for a verbal brawl.

"Me?" Spike asked indignantly. "You think I did this? That's a fine thing. I'm the one who's helping him after he got himself hurt. Hell, I carried him all the way here despite his going on about how he could get home on his own. Not bloody likely with those cuts."

"Got *himself* hurt?" Davy asked incredulously. "You're really something, you know that?"

"Oh, you think so?" Spike said, nodding with ironic wisdom. "Should take a look at yourself if you're looking to accuse people of trying to hurt him. You think your mind games will work?"

"What the hell are you both talking about?" Xander asked impatiently. His head was beginning to hurt, and the last thing he needed was to referee a fight between Spike and Davy. He felt foggy and confused about what had just happened between him and Spike, and as much as most of him wanted to stick around to find out what would happen next, there was a small but extremely vocal part shrieking "Run away!" in the back of his head. 

Spike and Davy had already escalated their taunts and reproaches when Xander interrupted them again. "Okay, so it's mostly scratches, but injured guy here! I should be going to sleep or something, not listening to you guys fight with each other over god knows what."

They both turned to look at him with some apprehension. 

He hopped off the counter and glared at them as he balled up his shirts. "I don't know what's up with you two not getting along, but stop trying to pull me into the middle of it. You have problems with each other? You work them out. You have problems with me? Well, tell me about it later, because I'm going to bed."

Xander left the room quickly, leaving two startled men in his wake.

Spike opened his mouth to begin dressing-down Davy, but Davy whirled around quickly to face him and started in before Spike had a chance to begin.

"You know that you're the one fucking with Xander's head, not me," he started, and Spike's angry expression gave way to uncertainty. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Spike said.

"Oh, you don't?" Davy's eyes narrowed and he took a step closer to Spike. "You turn up here after you haven't seen Xander in days, and you bring him home all messed up like this. And you don't know what I'm talking about?"

"No," Spike answered shortly. He stepped aside so that he could follow Xander down the corridor, but Davy grabbed his arm and hauled him to a stop. Spike sneered at Davy, imagining all the lovely ways he'd have been able to maul and mutilate him before the chip had been shoved in his head. He sighed inwardly when he realized that though Davy looked intimidated by the sneer, he also looked more resolute. 

"I think that you do," Davy said in a forceful, low tone. "I've seen how you ignore him for weeks sometimes. I've seen you bring him home looking like he's been worked over by a mob, and I've seen the bruises on his arms after he's spent the night 'hanging out' with you." 

Davy backed away from Spike, making his way over to the phone and picking up the receiver. "I don't know why Xander keeps going back to you despite what you're doing to him. I don't know why you think you're allowed to do that to anyone, but it stops here. I want you to leave now, and I want you to stay away from Xander from now on."

Spike stood there dumbly, trying to process the charges Davy was levying at him. 

"I'm not waiting for you to react, okay?" Davy said nervously, and gestured with the phone. "I don't care how mad you get, or what you try to pull -- I'll call the police, and if they find you here . . ."

"No need," Spike said. He brought his eyes to meet Davy's in a look of pure hate. "I'm not explaining any of this to you. Think what you want. Just don't try anything with Xander. He's not yours to mess with."

"And I suppose he's yours to mess with?" Davy asked in a sardonic voice.

"Not mess with, but yeah," Spike answered and paused before answering clearly. "Xander is mine."

"Get out of here," Davy hissed.

"You won't get what you want," Spike said evenly. He smiled coldly at Davy, and left the apartment.


	18. Talking Things Out

“Howdy Wills,” a morose voice greeted her when she picked up the phone.

“Hey Xander!” She gave the phone an affectionate little squeeze. “You okay? You sound sort of blue.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Just thought I’d have work to distract me today, but what with the rain and all . . . Say, are you free tonight? Could we get together and hang? C’mon Willow, be a bud.”

“Oh, wish I could! I haven’t gotten to hang out with just you in a while. But Oz already left a message on the machine saying he wanted to discuss some stuff tonight.” She frowned into the receiver. “He sounded all serious too. Do you think that’s weird?”

“Oz? Serious? Got to tell you, Will, not so much of a shocker.”

“I guess so . . . still, there was something more serious than his usual seriousness . . . ” she trailed off but then re-focused back on the conversation. “But weren’t you going to patrol again with Spike tonight? Buffy seemed set on having you guys work together this week.”

“I don’t know,” Xander said, sounding uncomfortable. “The other night . . . there was kind of a thing.”

“What sort of thing?”

Xander laughed nervously. “Just some weirdness here . . . Davy and Spike having the fireworks of unexplained anger. Haven’t really seen either of them since then.”

“That’s odd.” Willow shifted the phone from one ear to the other. “Something must have happened to set them off.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “It all went down kind of quickly. I left them there arguing and went to bed.”

“Well, it’s too bad that Spike has to go around picking fights with your roommate,” Willow offered in sympathy.

“Yeah, but that’s just it. Davy came in and started yelling at Spike about what he did to me . . . Willow, he acted like he thought Spike beat me up or something.” Xander took a deep breath. “And of course I can’t explain about the patrol thing, so maybe it’s a logical for him to jump to that . . . ”

“No way,” Willow said firmly. “Spike’s your friend. I mean, I kind of think that even with the chip out he wouldn’t beat you up just because he could. And just because Spike was there when you *were* beat up, why would Davy assume that Spike was the one responsible? Even if he doesn’t like Spike, that idea seems pretty harsh.”

“Davy’s probably just trying to look out for me,” Xander said after considering. “I mean, what would it look like to you?”

“Call me crazy Willow Rosenberg, but I’m from the school of asking questions first,” she said gently. “Why’d he rush to that conclusion . . . do you think he’s got some issue with Spike?”

“Why would he have an issue with Spike?” Xander asked in a reasonable tone. 

“You know, Davy does seem kind of invested in how you spend your time,” Willow said almost to herself. “He was a lot friendlier to me and Buffy at the beginning when he’d just moved in, but now it seems like he’d rather not see us around the apartment.” Her brow furrowed as she started to consider the situation with Davy. “Oh, and that time at the Bronze! He really didn’t want to hang out with all of us -- seemed like he’d rather see you on your own. I wonder . . . Xander, do you think that Davy, um . . . *likes* you?”

“Great, Will. That’s just great. Between you and Spike, I’m going to be so paranoid about Davy lusting after me that I won’t even feel comfortable in my own apartment any more,” Xander complained.

“Hey, wait a second here,” Willow said. “Spike and I aren’t the ones who are making you . . . hang on. Spike thinks that Davy’s interested in you too?”

“Geez, Will -- you know Spike! He’s always coming to weird conclusions.”

Willow was silent.

“He’s not. Davy’s not interested in me,” Xander said.

“Well, you can be a little oblivious, Xander,” Willow reminded him. “Remember Anya asked you to run away with her before graduation, and you sure didn’t see that one coming. Or what about -- ”

“Why are you just automatically siding with Spike on this one?” Xander demanded.

“Xander, why are you getting upset with me?” Willow asked in confusion. “And *siding* with Spike . . . I’m just . . . are *you* upset with Spike? Are you mad at him because of how he interprets what Davy’s up to? Because of how he fought with Davy? Or are you freaked out about something else that Spike did?”

“Look at the time,” Xander said suddenly. “I’ve really got to go. See you later, Wills.”

“Bye,” Willow said in a soft voice to the dial tone. She hung up the phone and rubbed her head a little. It was almost time to get ready to meet Oz. As much as she wanted to know what was going on with Xander, it would have to wait until tomorrow.

**********

Just after sunset, Buffy sat on the steps leading up to a small crypt, cracking her grape-flavored gum and scanning the graveyard.

“Nasty habit, that,” she heard, and just barely held back from going into attack mode when she saw who it was.

“Spike,” she said with a nod. “Yeah, like *much* nastier than drinking . . .” He gave her an exasperated look and she grinned. “Nah, forget it. It’s too easy.”

He settled down next to her. After some companionable staring out into the night for demons and vampires, she looked at him slyly out of the corner of her eye. 

“You look particularly dead tonight. What’s up?”

Spike just sneered at her and continued surveying the area.

“Don’t want to talk about it, huh?” Buffy asked. She plunked her hands on the steps and hauled herself up. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Let’s go where?” Spike asked with a scowl.

“Let’s go. As in put up your dukes. You’re all pissy about something, and if you don’t want me to talk to you about it, at least let me help you out by beating you up.”

“Yeah, real fun for me,” Spike commented. “I’m sure that’d help a great deal.”

“Fine then,” Buffy said, blowing a stray hair out of her face. “We’ll find some demons, since they don’t seem keen on finding *us*, and you can cheer up by cracking some otherworldly skulls.”

“That does sound nice,” Spike allowed reluctantly.

“See? You can decide to be positive!” Buffy nodded emphatically. She smiled encouragingly at him. 

Spike smiled back, almost shyly, but then looked alarmed. “Behind you,” he got out, before there was a bevy of vampires upon them all at once. 

After much round-house kicking, a thorough dusting, and a few volleys of light banter, the vamps were taken care of, and Buffy was bouncing on the balls of her feet, looking pleased. Spike looked much more relaxed now, and maybe she could *finally* get something out of him about his feelings about Xander. 

She’d done her part, deciding that if she wasn’t going to hinder Xander’s crush then at least she could help things along by pairing the two of them off for patrolling. But she hadn’t heard boo about it from either of them, and it looked like the only way she’d get an update would be to pry. Buffy smiled a little wider. Prying was one of her specialties.

“So,” she said casually. She even whistled a little to throw him off. “What’s up with Xander these days? I haven’t seen him as much as you have. What’s the scoop?”

Spike glanced at her sharply. “Nothing.”

“Hmmm,” Buffy said with a knowing look on her face. “I *see*.”

Spike shook his head in irritation. “Nothing *to* see.”

“Uh huh,” Buffy said skeptically. “Well, you seem awfully touchy about it.”

He sighed dramatically and sank back down onto the crypt step. “I don’t know what’s going on. So nothing.”

“But there’s something that could be going on? I mean, you’re wanting to go on with the going on . . . Or at least you *want* to know what’s going on with . . . going on.” Buffy paused, considering the syntax, then shrugged and raised her eyebrows, waiting for Spike to respond.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Spike asked with his voice raised. 

“Well, what are you talking about?” Buffy asked triumphantly, turning the tables. She’d get him to talk about his feelings for Xander yet.

“That git, Davy.” 

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it . . . what do you mean, Davy? I thought we were talking about Xander.” Buffy grabbed Spike’s shoulder and shook him a little, as if that would make him answer more clearly. Spike looked hard at her and waited.

“Uh oh,” Buffy said. “What did you do?”

“Me?” Spike said indignantly. “Me??? I’m not the one who goes around accusing innocent bystanders and barges in on important moments just when they’re *finally* happening!”

“What happened?” Buffy asked with wide eyes.

“Fancies him,” Spike said shortly.

“You mean you . . .”

“I mean *Davy*. *Are* you paying attention?”

“Davy,” Buffy said and stopped. “Davy and Xander. Xander and Davy.”

“Getting it now, love?” Spike said with some bitterness.

“Huh,” Buffy said, genuinely confused. “Why didn’t I see that one coming?”

Spike rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette.

“But . . . but you . . . but Xander . . . ” Buffy gaped at him, unsure of what to say next. 

“Right then. I’m off.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Buffy called out. “You still haven’t told me . . . ”

“Told you all I’m *going* to tell you,” Spike muttered. 

“Xander and Spike and Davy and . . . ” Buffy shook her head. Too confusing. Time to regroup and go right to the source. She looked around the graveyard one last time, then headed off to Xander’s apartment.

**********

“So then you just told him straight out?” Xander asked in awe.

“Well, pretty much,” Nathan replied with a shrug.

“I’ve got to hand it to you,” Xander said. “I would have hemmed and hawed and stuffed myself full of pancakes without saying a damn thing.”

“The jury’s still out, so we’ll have to see.” Nathan tilted his head to the side and smiled at Xander. “So . . . now that you’re getting a little more comfortable with your own alternative lifestyle . . . when are you going to have some good news on your front?” 

“No news,” Xander said glumly. 

“Hmmm. I guess I’m a little surprised. Listen, Xander, I don’t mean to pry . . . but I think you realize that your interest in Spike is kind of obvious.”

Xander laughed. “What, I thought I had the best poker face on the planet!” Then he shook his head, a sober expression on his face. “I think . . . I think that there’s something going on. Or there would have been. Kind of. Almost. Maybe.”

“Okay then,” Nathan said expansively. “If you’re *sure*.”

Xander cracked a grin at that. “It’s just that . . . should it be this hard?”

“I don’t know,” Nathan said thoughtfully. “But it’s not like everyone gets attracted to someone and falls into bed with them right away. I mean, that happens too, but not when there are a bunch of issues standing in the way. Would it have been better if things started happening before you figured out for yourself what was going on in your head?”

“The jury’s out on that one too,” Xander said with a slight smile. “On what’s going on in my head I mean. But you know, I am getting it. I am. I’m . . . attracted to him, and I think maybe he does like me. It’s just . . . oh, who knows.” Xander threw his hands up into the air. “Maybe it’ll all work out.” 

“That’s really great,” Nathan said. “Seriously.”

“Yeah,” Xander said softly. “And you know, who cares that he’s a vampire, because -- ”

“Whoa, whoa whoa!” Nathan held out his hand in a gesture of emergency interruption. Who’s a *what* now?”


	19. Unexpected Responses

Xander's mouth went dry as soon as he heard what Nathan said. "Um, did I forget to mention that Spike's a vampire?" he asked weakly.

Nathan just stared for a minute, his face unreadable. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I thought you guys killed vampires. I thought vampires killed people."

"Pretty much, but --" 

"Can you see how those two concepts don't lead inevitably to 'Spike is a vampire; therefore, Xander wants to *date* vampire-y Spike'?"

"Well, when you put it like *that*," Xander said with a vague gesture. "But he can't hurt anyone --"

"Just can't? How about won't?" Nathan asked quietly.

Xander exhaled and relaxed a little. "Both. I don't think . . . he won't hurt me that way. Even if he could, but he can't, because of . . . well, let's just leave it at that. Willow thinks he won't too."

"Willow knows and she trusts him," Nathan stated. "And you don't think that he'll hurt you . . . not physically."

Xander felt relieved that Nathan wasn't asking skeptical questions -- it seemed more like he was mulling over all of the new information. 

Nathan gave him a small smile. "I don't really know as much about this stuff as the rest of you. If you say it's alright, I believe you. Just . . . look out for yourself, okay? You're a good friend, Xander. I don't want you to get hurt."

Xander nodded slowly. "Thanks . . . I'll try not to get hurt. Trust me, I'm not so big on the hurting of any variety." 

Nathan was about to reply when someone started pounding on the door.

"Do you think . . . " Nathan said delicately.

"I don't know," Xander said with wide eyes. It sure sounded like it could be Spike.

"Xanderrrr!" Both of them jumped and grinned sheepishly at each other when they heard the impatient, girlish voice. 

"Come in, Buffy," Xander called out.

Buffy flounced in and stopped in front of the couch, fixed her hands on her hips and stared intently at Xander and Nathan. "I'm very confused," she announced.

"Maybe I should get out of here," Nathan murmured, looking uneasy.

"Maybe *I* should," Xander muttered under his breath.

"And," Buffy paused meaningfully, "I want some answers."

"Who doesn't want answers when there are questions?" Xander remarked with a weak laugh. He looked at Nathan in desperation.

"Um, don't we have that thing?" Nathan blurted.

"There's a thing?" Xander asked blankly. He started, and exclaimed loudly, "Oh, *that* thing!" Nodding vigorously, he turned to Buffy and started to inch towards the door. "Really sorry we can't stay and chat, but we have the thing, and well . . . "

"Plus there are tickets involved," Nathan contributed.

"And lines," Xander affirmed. "Gotta get there early to avoid the lines."

Buffy sighed. "Stop inching, okay?" They both came to a halt and waited. "Listen, Xander. I'm not here to get all confrontational about who you're interested in or what you're doing. And when it comes down to it, this is all your business and no one else's. If Nathan knows what's going on with you and S--. . . and that helps you, I think that's cool. But I want to help too. And I can't help thinking that I could help more if I knew what you wanted. So can you tell me?" She stopped, a wistful look on her face, as she waited for Xander to answer.

"I would tell you," Xander answered slowly, "except that I don't totally know myself what's going on."

"Okay," Buffy said a little sadly. She glanced at Nathan, who was watching her sympathetically. 

"It seems like everybody thinks stuff," Xander continued. "And I'm not sure what to think. But I don't want to mess things up by moving too fast, or waiting too long . . . "

"So you're pretty much aiming for no action at all then," Buffy commented.

Xander looked at her quickly, then suddenly broke into a grin. "And no action is exactly what I'm getting."

Nathan laughed softly, and Buffy seemed to relax a little. "That doesn't sound too fun," she replied, looking amused. 

"Oh, trust me, it's a barrel of laughs," Xander said. 

"How about this then," she began. "Maybe you don't know what to think, but you don't have to figure it out alone."

"Buffy, that's cool, and I do want to talk to you about this, but -- "

"I'm not talking about me, Xander," she said seriously. "I'm talking about Spike. You need to work out what's up, and he can . . . well, even if he doesn't know the exact answers either, maybe you can be confused together?"

"What are you saying, Buffy?" Xander asked.

"I'm saying that it's time to stop worrying so much about what to tell me, or how much you can tell Willow, or even what Nathan thinks." Buffy gave Nathan a small smile, and he nodded encouragingly at her. She took a deep breath and faced Xander directly. "I'm saying that it's time for you to talk to Spike."

**********

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" Willow asked. Her voice went up in pitch as she twisted her hands together nervously.

Oz leaned back in his chair. They were in his room, Willow perched on the bed. After putting off the "talk" during dinner and a stop at a party, there wasn't anything left that could reasonably distract them from the conversation. 

"I love you," Oz began.

Willow nodded anxiously.

"And I don't ever want to do anything that would hurt you," he continued.

"Well, those both *sound* like good things," Willow said. "But why does it seem like you're about to say something terrible?" She looked at Oz intently, searching his face for some clue as to what was coming next. Then she gasped out loud. "Are you . . . are you breaking up with me?"

"No!" Oz exclaimed. "No, I'm not," he said more quietly. He seemed about to say something, but there was a strange look on his face, almost as if the corners of his lips were going to quirk up into a smile. 

"Okay, I'm all for talking, but how did this go from serious to fun?" Willow asked. She couldn't help but smile back as Oz's face gave way to an almost silly expression.

"It's just . . . this is going to sound weird no matter how I say it. And I don't want to weird you out."

Willow bounced on the bed a little. "You know, it's hard not to get weirded out when someone says they don't want to weird you out. I'm imagining all kinds of dire news now. Kind of like when someone says 'Don't think about raisins!' and even though you weren't thinking about raisins before, now they're all you can think about – how raisins get made, why they don't taste like grapes whereas they *are* grapes, unlike dried apricots which *do* taste like apricots, and . . . okay, stopping now," she said when she saw Oz watching her with what was now unmistakably a smile. "Maybe you should just say it straight out. I mean, if we're not breaking up, it can't be *that* bad, right? Um, right?"

"It's not bad, and it's not breaking up," Oz reassured her. "It's just something unusual . . . and kind of the opposite of breaking up. In the sense that breaking up is about breaking into pieces and this is more . . . expanding."

"Now it sounds like we're going to venture into the overseas market," Willow observed. "Like maybe we're *marketing* raisins."

"How about you forget about the raisins?" Oz asked.

"See?" Willow gestured. "Now you've done it. Now I'm weirded out *and* I can't get raisins off my brain."

"Okay, how about this? Think expanding in the sense of *adding*," Oz advised.

"Adding," Willow echoed. She looked down at her hands, clearly puzzling through this information. 

Oz took a breath. "What would you say if I asked you if you wanted to go out with someone else?" 

She looked up sharply. "Why would you . . . uh . . . even if I did want to go out with someone else, it wouldn't matter. Because I'm with *you*."

"No, I don't mean just you, I mean . . . " Oz paused. "Half a second. You want to go out with someone else, just you?"

"That's not what I said." Willow looked away. Then she slowly turned to face him again. "What do *you* mean, just me? Are you talking about us seeing other people?"

"Who is it?" Oz asked in a shaky voice.

"Who is what?" Willow asked. "And do you want to see other people?

"The person that you want to see, that's who," Oz muttered. "And no, I don't . . . well, I don't want us to separately see other people."

"Oz, can we . . . let's take this one thing at a time. Stop leading up, stop trying to make this easy, whatever it is, because it's just making it harder. Tell me what's happening. Why did you want to talk to me tonight? What does it have to do with what you're saying now?"

"Nathan asked us out." Oz stood up and walked over to the bed, sitting beside Willow. 

"Both of us?" She asked him for clarification. 

"Yeah, both of us," Oz replied. "But we don't have to . . . we don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I know it sounds strange . . . and if it feels wrong, then I don't want it for us. But . . . if you want to . . . I'd be up for trying it."

Willow sat there quietly for a few moments. Then she covered her face with both of her hands and made a snuffling kind of noise.

"Oh, fuck," Oz said quietly. Willow shook a little, her hands still over her face.

"Willow, I'm sorry," Oz said, unsure whether he should touch her comfortingly or back off. His hand hovered over her shoulder before he finally just pulled it back. "I didn't mean to upset you. You mean everything to me, and I wouldn't hurt you or mess that up, no matter what."

Willow was silent. Oz watched her miserably, waiting for some sort of signal. "Please, Willow . . . "

Finally she removed her hands. Her face was bright pink, and it looked like her eyes were just starting to tear at the corners. But then Oz realized something with a start, figuring out why she was turning so red just before -- just before Willow burst into hysterical giggles.

"Um, that was funny?" Oz asked dubiously.

Willow crashed back on the bed and shrieked with laughter. "I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . . ." she got out finally. "It's just that . . . oh, man," she said with a grin. "Nathan wants to go out . . . with *us*?" She covered her mouth with her hand and snorted.

"You know, of all the possible responses, I really didn't anticipate this one," Oz remarked.

"Oh come on," Willow said with a grin. Then she reached out and grabbed Oz, tickling him and pulling him back onto the bed with her.

"No, no," Oz said in a mix of alarm and pleasure, and of course that just made Willow tickle him harder. 

Finally she stopped, and he panted on the bed, trying to get his breath back. 

"I'll bet a lot of people don't know that you're totally ticklish," Willow said smugly.

"You could win a lot of money making that bet," Oz answered. A moment passed.

"I love you," Willow said.

"I love you," Oz said, pulling her close. They stayed like that for a little while, just holding each other.

"Okay," Willow said suddenly.

"Okay?" Oz asked.

"If it's okay with you. Then go ahead. Tell Nathan it's okay with me." 

**********

Spike sat on his patched chair, drawing on his cigarette. After talking to Buffy he had retreated to his crypt, thinking about how all of this with Xander was going wrong and wondering how to make it right. When he heard motion behind him, he didn't even raise his head. "Look, Clem," he said quietly, "I'm not much for talking tonight, okay? Got a lot of things on my mind."

"Alright," said a distinctly un-Clem-like voice. "But I kind of want to talk to you soon, okay?"

"Xander," Spike said quietly.

"Um, yeah . . . that'd be me," Xander said as he circled the chair and came into view. He sat down slowly on the couch, then picked up his hand and gave a small wave. "Hi!"

"Hi," Spike returned with wide eyes. They stared at each other just long enough to start Xander squirming a little.

"Can I say something?" he asked Spike.

"Yes," Spike said. He leaned forward a little.

"Great! Except that I don't know what to say," Xander stated. "I just got worried we were going to stare at each other all night, and then I'd have to leave like a big dope, never having tried to talk to you about what's going on between us."

Spike smiled slowly and rose out of his chair. "Between us, you say?"

Xander colored quickly, but he continued on with resolution. "Yeah."

Spike eased onto the couch next to Xander, close enough that he could feel Xander's body heat. "Being very brave, aren't you pet?" he asked.

Xander shifted a little, but nodded back. "Trying to."

"C'mere," Spike said hoarsely, and suddenly he was gripping Xander's shoulders, Xander's lips were on his, and they were kissing. 

"Mmph," Xander said, but Spike didn't want to move away now that Xander and he were finally where he wanted them to be. So close he could hear Xander's heart beating quickly, so close that he could feel the moan that escaped from Xander as it built up in his chest. He pulled Xander closer, the increased pressure parting their lips and letting Spike move his tongue slowly along Xander's, his hand moving up under Xander's shirt and grasping his lower back.

"Wait," Xander got out as he pulled away just a little.

"Waiting," Spike said. He decided that wait didn't mean stop, however, so he moved down to mouth at Xander's neck, drawing blunt teeth over his skin lightly.

"Oh god," Xander panted. "No, seriously . . . oh, god . . . that feels so . . . no, really! I want to talk to you."

"Go ahead and talk," Spike murmured, sliding his hands to Xander's sides and switching to the other side of his neck. He licked a long stripe up to Xander's jaw and kissed it. "I'm all ears, love."

"It's kind of hard to . . . um . . . concentrate," Xander whispered, "when you're doing . . . that."

Spike straightened a little so that his face was inches away. "How about when I'm doing this?" he asked seriously, and then put his hands on Xander's cheeks, edging forward to his face slowly, bringing their lips together once more. 

He sighed when he felt Xander's lips slide and part again under his own. Xander's hands fluttered at his shoulders, finally settling on his back. Spike felt Xander's strong arms fold together around him, and smiled into the kiss as Xander drew the two of them together tightly. 

"Spike," Xander said softly, and Spike leaned in to capture those soft lips again for a moment before drawing back. 

"Yeah," he said, running his fingers up and down Xander's warm arms. 

Xander's eyes were closed, and he struggled to open them again. Spike was so near that he almost gave up and went to kiss him again, but he stopped himself with a last-ditch effort.

"I just want to work out what's up with us. You don't have to tell me everything you're feeling, and you don't have to know everything about what should happen, but I want to be able to talk to you." Xander said shyly, his eyes fixed on Spike's chest. "I want to work some of this out before we go any further."

"Hey," Spike replied, "we can figure this out together, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay," Xander said with relief. 

"Good," Spike said briskly. "Now just get that asshole Davy to move out of your apartment, and -- " 

"What? Why?" Xander asked. He moved away, backing himself into a corner of the couch. "Why are we talking about Davy? And why would I ask him to move out just because you say so?"

"Because I don't like you being around him," Spike said patiently. 

Xander laughed briefly. "It's no secret that you don't like Davy, but --"

"He's playing you." Spike announced. "He thinks he can get in on a good thing while you're confused about what you want. And you've been so back and forth and indecisive that he's just waiting for you to stop flirting with him and let him make a move."

"What are you talking about? Davy isn't . . . and I'm *not* flirting with him . . . and you have no right to say any of this." Xander jumped up. 

"Oh, like you haven't seen it," Spike said. "We're way past the stage of denial here, pet. I know you keep telling yourself that you don't know what to make of all this . . . me . . . Davy. But surely you understand that you have to make a choice here." Spike fixed his gaze on Xander. "I won't share you with anyone." 

Xander shook his head in disbelief. "Spike, we don't even know where *we* stand, and you're asking me to do this for you already? What if I want to keep Davy as my roommate? Do you think that you should be the one making decisions for me?"

Spike stood and walked over to Xander, anger clear on his face. "If you don't want to ask him to move out, maybe it's because you're waiting for him to start something." He narrowed his eyes. "Is that it? You're waiting to see how many you can pull? Choose the best of the bunch?" 

"No!" Xander said. He started backing away. "Christ, Spike. What do you want from me?"

"You. Just you," Spike answered quietly. But it was too late. Xander had already gone.


	20. Taking Directions

Giles hummed quietly to himself as he added grated ginger to the sizzling ingredients in his wok. "Blast!" he swore suddenly when the sound of the doorbell made him knock a large block of tofu to the floor.

"You aren't seriously going to eat what I'm smelling, are you?" Spike asked as soon as Giles opened the door and revealed him slouching against the doorframe. "If it's for a spell, then alright, but . . . "

"Do come in, Spike," Giles said in an irritated voice. "I'd rather not burn this because of your poor timing." 

Spike ventured in, headed towards the kitchen when Giles stopped and barked "Sit!" as he pointed at the couch. Spike sat and waited.

"At least offer me a cuppa if I have to watch you eat that . . . sprouty fungus-like stuff."

"Why don't you tell me while you're here," Giles said coolly, "and I'll decide if your visit warrants the sort of treatment I'd give to an invited guest?" He leaned on the kitchen counter and waited for Spike to proceed.

"I like that!" Spike huffed. "Do so many favors for you that I've lost count and . . . well, fine. You want to be that way. I'm here to talk to you about what's going on with him."

"Him . . ." Giles asked blankly.

Spike rolled his eyes. "*Xander* of course."

"Ah," Giles responded. He cocked his head to one side, inviting Spike to continue.

Spike sprang to his feet and began pacing. "Don't want him hurt . . . Then again, I've gone and messed it all up, apparently. Practically driven him towards . . . but I'm hardly the only one responsible . . . if he'd only listen to *reason*, you see… "

Giles sighed. "Could you be persuaded to tell the story as though you actually wanted me to understand what is going on?"

"Oh, yeah . . . " Spike muttered and gave himself a little shake. "Xander is . . . his roommate, that Davy . . . look, you have to help me *stop* them."

"Stop them from what?" Giles asked.

"From!" Spike waved his hands around wildly. "From . . . look, have you *met* Davy? We don't want Xander involved with that sort."

"Could it be that you have your own investment in the issue of who Xander becomes . . . involved with?" Giles asked. 

Spike came to a halt. 

"And what would you know about that?" he asked.

Giles rubbed his hand up and down his chin and cleared his throat. "I haven't been . . . unaware of a certain situation, shall we say, developing . . . "

Spike regarded him intently. "Is that why you were so keen on having me move out? I should have known that -- "

"No," Giles interrupted sharply. "Well . . . if I had known I might have . . . but I honestly thought that you were imposing and I wanted for Xander to . . . it's only recently that I wanted --"

"What you wanted," Spike repeated. "What you want, what Buffy and Willow want . . . ever bother asking Xander what it is that he wants?"

"Even if he does want someone -- something -- in particular, that doesn't mean he's making the wisest choice," Giles asserted. "Surely you understand that given the circumstances, the concerns that I would have are -- "

"It strikes me," Spike said, "that you're being rather *delicate* about all this, and you might as well just say outright what's what."

"Fine." Giles nodded. He sat on the recliner and faced Spike. "I'll make no secret of the fact that I have for some time been resistant to the possibility of you and Xander becoming involved. I don't know what you intend by leading him on in this way, but I would fault myself if I didn't maintain a skeptical perspective on what your motives might be."

"Yeah, well, can hardly blame you there," Spike observed.

"What?" Giles asked in confusion.

"Well, *vampire* -- more often than not you lot like to pretend I'm no more than a troublesome kitten, but you'd do well to remember that even with this chip in my head, I'm capable of causing real damage. I can understand that you'd be concerned for Xander, but the one you should be worried about is that git Davy." Spike's face darkened for a moment, and then relaxed as he continued speaking as if to himself. "I'm not leading Xander on. I'm not saying that I'm not *capable* of it, but the fact is that . . . I want something from him, but nothing he doesn't want for himself. It's just a matter of making him see it. I'd never hurt Xander -- well, not unless he wanted me to . . ." Spike trailed off his serious speech with a smirk. "And you'd best close your mouth, Rupert. Gaping isn't really the best look for you."

Giles shook his head, changing his expression from slack-jawed surprise to concentration. "You know, Buffy told me that I should speak to you about this before making my final judgment on the matter . . . She was convinced that you could possibly care for him."

"Yeah?" Spike asked. "Slayer's got some sense, after all." He pointed to Giles. "You'd do well to follow her example and not be so uptight."

"How do I know that I can trust you . . . that Xander can trust you?" Giles asked.

Spike leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "See, that's the tough one, mate. You'll have to wait and see . . . actions speak louder than words, and all that. It's up to Xander what he chooses, but I know that I would treat him right. If you can stay out of our way, you'll see that I will." 

"Well, then," Giles said slowly. "Perhaps you're right."

"Of course I'm right," Spike said impatiently. Then he looked at Giles with suspicion. "Are you *smiling* about all of this?"

"Erm . . . Sorry, sorry. I can't help it," Giles said as he grinned more widely.

"Smile away if it makes you less difficult," Spike said with a weary sigh.

"I know it seems odd . . ." Giles paused. "It's just that I can't shake the feeling that I've just given you permission to woo Xander."

Spike nodded. "Well, you have, in a manner of speaking. I imagine that's why you've been working so hard to bollocks this thing up until now . . . didn't approve of what's been happening."

"I'm not saying I approve now . . . "

"Yeah, I get it," Spike said impatiently, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. "Well. Now that we're all friendly-like and open-minded, I should probably be off."

"Wait," Giles said, standing at the same time that Spike did. "Didn't you come here to ask me something about . . . Davy, was it? You think Xander's in some danger from his roommate?"

"Not the standard Hellmouth variety of danger, but I don't trust Davy."

Giles considered. "Is this really something that anyone can help you with?" 

"Maybe you're right," Spike conceded. "This is about me and Xander -- I'll have to just go talk to him myself." Spike turned on his heel and made for the door.

**********

"Well, that was a pretty good movie," Willow ventured to say as she, Oz, and Nathan entered Oz's dorm room. 

"Yeah, it was okay," Oz said. "Big with the computer graphics." He shrugged off his jacket. 

"It's hard not to watch some of the special effects and think man, that looks so . . . expensive," Nathan said. "Not bad acting though. And hey, the popcorn was top notch."

"You can't go too far wrong when you have buttery popcorn," Willow agreed.

Nathan smiled at her. "Thanks for asking me back here after the film." 

"Oh, sure!" Willow said enthusiastically. "I mean, we could have gone to get coffee, but we'd just be thinking about what would happen next, you know? And we have coffee *here* and plus, already here and at the 'next' part." She nodded vigorously, then exclaimed "So!"

Nathan ducked his head and grinned a little. "So . . . want some help making the coffee, or . . . "

"Nah, I got it," Oz replied.

"Maybe we should wait to have coffee," Willow piped up. 

"Willow?" Oz asked.

"I guess I feel like we need to know what's going on . . . well, we all know what . . . maybe more like the where and the how . . . except the answer to where would be *here* . . ." she motioned around the room, "though that does leave the 'how,' " She watched Nathan expectantly and he nodded.

"Do you mean you want to try this out a little?" Nathan asked. He stopped and cleared his throat. "I'm game if you both are. We could just start out. You know, see what works."

"I'm pretty sure that this part of the equation works," Willow said with a small smile as she put her hand on Nathan's arm. "I mean, girl/guy, guy/girl. With Oz and me . . . that definitely works. And I know that I think you're . . . well, I kind of feel like we should try out the other um . . . " and she waved her hand around vaguely, "part of the combination."

"The part after the equal sign?" Nathan asked in confusion. "You want to go right to . . ." He did a quick eeny-meeny-miny type point between the three of them.

"No, no, no," Willow said. "Not all three of us right away. I mean, not that that wouldn't be *cool*," she added with a blush. "But I want to make sure that the other part of the . . . the other duo . . . is okay. With you both. And with me. Being there with you and seeing it, I mean. If it's not too much for me to see how that part works. . . you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Nathan said softly.

"So that would be guy-guy," Oz said with an arched brow.

"That's the one!" Willow said with exaggerated enthusiasm. 

"Okay," Oz replied, looking calm.

"Okay?" Willow said a little hysterically.

"Sure," Nathan said. He glanced at each of them and smiled slightly.

"Okay then," Willow stated. Her face took on a firm set that Oz was familiar with and she nodded decisively. "Go on then, you two. Start stuff."

The three of them looked at each other dubiously for a moment.

Nathan was the first one to burst out laughing. 

Willow watched him with wide eyes as he laughed so hard that he slumped with his back to the wall and slid down to the floor. 

At that, Oz grinned at her, and she couldn't help but giggle. That made Oz laugh out loud, and Willow began to giggle harder, until gradually all three of them were howling with laughter. 

Willow clutched her side and fell over sideways on the bed, gasping as they started to finally wind down a little. "Ow," she complained, grabbing her side, still giggling slightly. 

"You okay?" Oz asked from where he currently lay prone on the floor. 

"Uh, yeah," Willow replied. She looked back and forth at Oz and Nathan, and covered her mouth with her hand trying to hide the smile.

"Holy fuck," Oz said soberly, setting them all off again. 

"Don't *say* that," Nathan got out, before they all cracked up again.

"What, fuck?" Willow asked, her innocent look quickly straining as she began to laugh once more. 

Finally they all caught their breaths. Willow pushed herself off the bed to settle with her back against it as she seated herself on the floor, and Oz propped himself up on his elbows, glancing over at where Nathan was still leaning against the wall. 

"Okay," Nathan said and leaned over towards Oz. He look at him for a moment, reaching out briefly to touch Oz's spiked hair and cup Oz's face in his hand. "I like the glitter," he said seriously, touching the powdery sheen on Oz's cheekbones.

"Thanks," Oz said simply. He reached up, catching the nape of Nathan's neck, and brought him closer until their lips touched. 

"Oh boy," Willow said almost inaudibly as Nathan increased the pressure of the kiss, sliding his hand down Oz's neck then resting it on his chest. Oz held Nathan's shoulders, grasping them tightly as he opened his mouth and skirted his tongue along Nathan's. 

Nathan eased down, lying beside Oz and kissed a line down his neck slowly before facing Willow. "Okay so far?"

"Okay," Willow breathed. She glanced at Nathan's face then down to Oz who lay splayed out on the floor. "But you know, you should probably do *more* -- just so I can see how it goes, alright?"

"Sounds okay to me," Oz said casually. "In the interests of seeing how it goes, of course." 

"Oh, absolutely," Willow said with a nod. "It's all for the greater good. So keep going. Except . . . you're kind of at a weird angle for me . . . soooo . . ." She waved her hand a little, indicating they should move from their prone position.

Nathan laughed and sat up; Oz followed suit. 

At first they just leaned towards one another but they edged closer once the kisses gained fervor and depth. Then Nathan reached and pulled Oz into his lap so that he was sitting sideways across his legs.

They parted for a moment, and Oz sighed, brushing Nathan's hair away from his forehead. He twisted and shifted until he was straddling Nathan, until their legs loosely closed around each other. Oz gently pushed forward a little, drawing a low moan out of Nathan as their kisses became more heated. They began rocking back and forth slightly, their hips jutting towards each other, trying to get even closer than they already were.

"Oh, man," Nathan said as he pulled partly away. He dropped his head onto Oz's shoulder and took a deep breath. "Maybe this should be . . . should we call it a night? Because if we keep going, I don't think I'll be able to . . ." He lifted his head and smiled weakly at both Willow and Oz.

"Well, if you really want to go . . ." Willow said in a disappointed voice.

"It's not that I *want* to go," Nathan said with a slight laugh.

"I'd like you to stay," Oz said suddenly, and Willow quickly nodded. 

"Stay, Nathan . . . really . . ."

Nathan turned to her, watching her intently for a moment. "Okay. But Willow . . . are you cool with this?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Willow said with a blush. "Not so much cool as -- I just mean, I'm kind of hot. I mean *it* is kind of hot. In here! In the room! Did you notice how hot it had gotten in here?" When the corners of Oz's mouth quirked upwards in a smile, Willow rolled her eyes at herself. "I guess this isn't really a good situation for sweater-wearing." She plucked at her cardigan slightly for emphasis. "But otherwise, I'm totally on board."

"Maybe you should take the cardigan off," Oz said reasonably.

"Or we could all take something off," Nathan offered. "In the interests of fairness."

"That does sound like a good idea," Willow agreed. Her eyes widened as they flickered over them. "Why don't you, uh . . . take each others' shirts off?"

And suddenly Oz had captured Nathan's lips again as the pace changed. The exploratory sense of hesitancy earlier dropped away as the two of them frantically pulled at each others' clothing, panting slightly as skin came into contact with skin. 

"Damn," Oz gasped as Nathan's hands slipped down to cup his ass, pulling their erections into friction once again. 

"Too fast?" Nathan managed, even as he still pulled Oz closer.

"Probably not fast *enough*," Oz clarified. "Maybe we should take this to the bed?"

"No objections here," Willow said in a fascinated voice. She had already moved up to the bed, cardigan now discarded on the floor, and patted the mattress next to her in a friendly way.

Oz got to his feet and reached out a hand to pull Nathan up. They stumbled towards the bed together, but Willow raised her hand up.

"Wait a sec," she said. "You should take off your jeans now." They both looked at her with slightly stunned expressions at the instructions. Her eyebrows had shot up about as high as they could go, and her cheeks were flushed, but the obvious heat in her eyes added to the electricity of the moment. "I mean, it'd probably be easier, right?

"Well, if you think so . . . wouldn't want to be rude," Nathan said with a grin as he shimmied out of his jeans, leaving him clad only in boxers.

"You've got that right, mister," Willow said, watching the jeans pool on the floor. "You don't want me getting all offended in the middle of all this."

"Far from it," Nathan agreed as he turned to thumb open the buttons on Oz's fly. 

"I'm just glad we're all being so polite," Oz murmured. He groaned when Nathan's fingers brushed up against his hardness. "Though, you know, conversation is getting more challenging."

"Just stop talking then," Willow said firmly as she scooted over on the bed to make room. "Those are hard to get loose in a hurry, aren't they?" she asked Nathan sympathetically.

"Got 'em," Nathan said triumphantly when he had Oz's jeans in hand, turning slightly red as he realized how eager he sounded and as he realized that Oz wasn't wearing anything under his jeans.

But there wasn't time to worry about that, because Oz had pulled him onto the bed and was mouthing at his throat, scraping along his jaw with blunt teeth, and Nathan was gasping, catching Oz to his chest and falling backwards fully, and Willow was murmuring encouraging words to both of them.

Oz thrust desperately against Nathan, losing any semblance of distanced reaction as he gave a hoarse cry because it all felt so good. And Nathan, who'd been so confident all along, was trembling in fits and starts, and Willow, who'd laughed so hysterically earlier was all wide-eyed seriousness as she watched the motions intently, so close to them that she could feel the heat pouring off of their bodies. 

"Fuck" "Yeah" "Please" "Harder" and Nathan pressed up against Oz, trying for faster, closer, more, and the cries he made when he came were swallowed whole as Oz kissed him hard.


	21. Drinks and Disclosures

“I’ve heard of a third wheel, and a fifth wheel . . . I don’t know if this stretches the whole concept, but is there such a thing as a fourth wheel?” Buffy asked plaintively. “Is that like the tricycle model of tagging along on a date of three people?” 

“Oh! Buffy, we don’t mean to make you feel left out.” Willow’s gaze drifted over to Nathan and Oz where they stood, their shoulders brushing together slightly as they waited to pay the check. 

It had seemed like a great idea to invite Buffy to have brunch with all of them, but maybe it might have been better to tell Buffy what had been going on first off. Not that it had taken _too_ long to figure out the situation, what with Nathan kissing Willow whenever she said something funny, and Oz’s arm draped across the back of Nathan’s chair, his thumb stroking the nape of Nathan’s neck. “Sorry if we’re all,” Willow waved her arm around, “goofy and touchy and stroke-y and . . .”

“Hey! Watch the details. Fourth wheel here,” Buffy reminded her with a smile. “No, don’t apologize. It’s cool. It’s just a little . . . unexpected. Here I was wondering if you and Oz would try seeing other people after the last conversation we had . . . ”

“Well, we are seeing other people,” Willow pointed out. “Except that it’s one person, and we’re both seeing him.”

“You know, that’s the part I’m still wrapping my head around,” Buffy explained. Her expression softened as she looked at Willow. “It’s good though?”

“It’s very good,” Willow assured her with a wide grin. 

“And it seems pretty serious already,” Buffy said.

“I guess . . . we’ll have to see, but yeah, it feels like that right now. Maybe it’s because Oz and I have been together for so long. It’s kind of like we just added Nathan to the mix of seriousness.”

“Well, I think we can all get used to it as long as you’re happy,” Buffy said. She paused as she regarded the guys now making their way back to the table. “Just means there are two boys I’ll have to beat up if they do anything stupid.”

“Not us,” Oz said. He kissed the top of Willow’s head gently, and helped her with her coat.

“Well, you’d better not,” Buffy said as she stood. “We’re talking about my Willow here. And I don’t want to get in the middle of all of you, but if I have to, I will.”

“You’re not offering, are you?” Nathan asked as he drained the rest of his coffee. “Joke, I’m _joking_ ,” he said when Willow turned to him with a mock look of shock on her face. 

“You’d better be joking,” Willow said hotly, landing a soft punch on Nathan’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed, throwing out a punch of her own.

“Ow,” Nathan complained. “That’s a mean right hook you’ve got there, Buff.”

“Sorry!” Buffy said quickly. She patted Nathan’s arm gently. “I just haven’t had anyone to punch lately with Xander working long hours at his job and being all stressed out over the Spike situation. Not to mention the Davy situation.”

“Yeah, what’s the what on that front?” Oz asked.

“Last time I talked to Xander he was pretty grumpy about some stuff Spike said,” Willow replied. “I thought it would be good if they talked things out, but now I’m starting to think that they should _stop_ talking if they ever want anything to happen.”

“It’s been tough for Xander,” Nathan said. “Figuring out how he feels about being with guys even without the added element of Spikiness is adjustment enough. From where I stand, Davy seems like kind of an asshole, but Xander’s the one who has to make the decisions. My money’s on Spike, though.”

“I bet something dramatic happens between them pretty soon,” Willow observed. 

“Probably,” Buffy said with a smile. “There seems to be a lot of that dramatic resolution stuff going on around here lately.”

 

**********

 

Xander stopped in the hallway outside his apartment door and listened for any sound or movement. When he heard nothing, he let out a sigh of relief and fumbled around for his keys.

It wasn’t like he was trying to steer clear of his roommate, he reasoned. More like since Spike and Willow had been putting ideas in his head about Davy’s supposed interest in him, Xander had just thought it’d be cool if he and Davy had more of their own space. After a quick check of the new site, he hoped that he’d have the place alone for a little while. 

So Xander opened the door easily, and gave a little jump when he saw that Davy was drinking coffee and reading the newspaper on the couch. 

“Hi there, Davy,” Xander said brightly as he entered. He paused uncertainly, taking his jacket off and then started to put it back on again. It looked like Davy was pretty settled in, so if Xander stayed conversation would be inevitable. But if Xander left right away, _that’d_ probably seem odd, and might lead to other uncomfortable talking type stuff. 

None of it was Davy’s fault, but being around him made things seem more confusing for some reason. It was mind-boggling enough that grope-y things had been starting and stopping with Spike. And since Spike had acted like a jerk at the crypt, demanding that Xander practically throw Davy out onto the street, Xander wasn’t sure how to act around his roommate. It didn’t have anything to do with _Davy_ \-- Davy was his friend. Just maybe, though, a friend he really didn’t want to be around at this very moment.

Making up his mind, Xander shrugged his jacket back on completely. “Look at you! Here. Reading the paper. Just stopped by to get . . . ” Xander’s eyes darted around as he frantically looked for something to grab on his way out. He triumphantly settled on a spare key chain with a bottle opener attached. “This! This thing . . . I’m always forgetting to bring it with me! Say, I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Hey, Xander, you just got here . . . where are you off to now?” Davy asked as he started to straighten up on the couch.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Xander said hastily, making little air patting motions with his palms, “Don’t get up, and I’ll just see you later, and I’ll bring you up to speed on the whole lot of nothing that’s been happening with me lately.” He laughed nervously and started backing towards the door.

“Xander, hang on, would you?” Davy began. “I haven’t really seen much of you lately, and I’m just wondering . . . did I do something to upset you?” 

“What? You? What could you possibly have done?” Xander asked incredulously. Then he took a deep breath. “I know I haven’t been around much lately. I don’t mean to be avoidy guy, it’s just that . . . I’m trying to work out some stuff on my own, and it really hasn’t been easy.”

“Why am I guessing that this is Spike-related?” Davy asked with a pointed look.

“That’s just crazy talk,” Xander said weakly. Davy kept on looking like he could see right through Xander’s bluff. “Well, maybe some of it is . . . ”

“Xander, you can keep avoiding me, but if you’re having problems because you’re getting back together with Spike, you won’t be able to avoid those issues forever.” Davy crossed the room, ending up standing at arm’s length from Xander. “Wouldn’t it be better to have a friend to talk it out with?”

“Avoiding . . . Spike . . . what? I’m not with Spike -- I haven’t been with him in the first place, much less gotten back together with him. And I’m _not_ . . . ” Xander paused, realizing that the “I’m not gay” speech was one he was pretty much disqualified from performing at this point. What with the making out with Spike, and the obsessing about Spike, and the naked sexy dreams about Spike . . . um, naked sexy dreams about Spike _and_ Davy. 

“You’re not gay?” Davy said gently. He looked at Xander fondly, as though Xander was the cutest thing he’d ever come across. “I’m not trying to label you, Xander . . . but at some point you’re going to have to figure out what you want.”

Xander raised a finger, lowered it, and then cleared his throat. “How come you think I don’t know what I want?” He tried hard to keep the squeak out of his voice.

Davy smiled. “It’s pretty obvious that you’re sussing out the . . . possibilities.” Then his expression seemed to go blank for a second before shifting back to one of concern. “I just . . . I don’t want you to get hurt while you’re thinking it through, okay? I’m worried about Spike, and the kind of person he is . . . the way he might treat you.”

“Oh.” Xander decided to drop the pretence of leaving the apartment, and took off his jacket for good. “I don’t know . . . we haven’t really settled . . . I’m not sure what I . . . I guess I’m not sure what the right decision is,” he finished. 

Davy put his hand on Xander’s shoulder and looked into Xander’s eyes. “Hey. You don’t have to work it all out on your own, alright? How about we hang out for a while -- just the two of us? Come on -- I’ll buy the drinks.”

“That sounds okay,” Xander said, letting out a sigh. “Let me just change really quickly, and we can go now if you want.”

“Definitely,” Davy said, smiling. “I definitely want to go now.”

 

**********

 

Spike flicked his lighter off, on, off, on, before the flame stopped catching altogether. “Stupid . . .” he muttered, pulling it apart to check the flint. 

He’d made it as far as their . . . Xander’s apartment building, but then he’d decided to wait outside. Just getting his bearings, really. He could do this, he could tell Xander that he had to stay the hell away from Davy. He could also just tell Davy to piss off, but Xander might not like that very much. 

It had been so frustrating, though, knowing that he was the only one that really saw Davy as a threat. And as long as things were unsettled between him and Xander . . . wouldn’t be right to just leave the two of them alone, now would it?

He had just succeeded in sparking the flame when he saw Xander and Davy emerge from the building. Spike felt a low growl building up in his throat, and tried to calm down. Didn’t mean they were going somewhere together. Maybe they were just leaving the apartment at the same time? That would be fine with him. That way he could catch up to Xander, try to make him listen to reason again -- only slightly more sensitive-like this go ‘round. 

But the two of them weren’t separating. In fact, they were headed over to Davy’s car, Davy not _quite_ touching Xander, but his hand hovering at Xander’s back. It seemed like he was holding back, wanting to guide Xander to the car physically, but keeping the impulse in check.

Spike snapped off the lighter abruptly. Going out, just the two of them, then? Looked like he’d better tag along.

 

**********

 

“That’s _hilarious_ ,” Xander burst out. 

Davy smiled. It had been a really fun night so far. Xander was much more relaxed when he was drinking, and since they were on round . . . well, not like they’d really been counting the rounds after a certain point. He wasn’t quite certain exactly which part of his story Xander was laughing at, but who cared? He felt like things were finally getting somewhere -- Xander laughing at his jokes, sitting closer to him -- maybe tonight would be the night that this whole thing finally started up.

“See?” Xander asked rhetorically, jabbing his finger into Davy’s chest. “Isn’t this fun? Aren’t you glad I asked you to go out for drinks?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m the one that asked you . . . ” Davy began.

“Oh, I would’ve probably asked you eventually,” Xander scoffed. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again quickly. Then he opened it again.

“Davy? You’d tell me if you were trying to jump my bones, right?” 

Davy almost did a double-take; he couldn’t believe Xander was asking him this so directly. Then again, they _had_ had a great deal to drink.

“Why do you ask that?” He slid his drink off the coaster and took a quick sip.

“Well, it seems like everyone else thinks you are,” Xander observed.

Davy almost spit out the swallow he’d just taken. “Everyone meaning who?”

“Oh, you know!” Xander waved his hand. “Willow. Spike.”

“Spike thinks so, huh?” Davy asked. His hand tightened around his glass. Clearly Spike had been trying to warn Xander away from him. Sure, like _he_ was the threat, and Spike was the one who wanted to play nice. But it wasn’t worth getting upset about it -- after all, he was the one here with Xander, wasn’t he? And Spike was . . . here?

“Spike!” Xander almost shrieked. “There you are!” He nodded quickly, as though he’d expected this arrival all along, then jumped in his seat as if he was thoroughly shocked. “What are you doing here?”

“I think you’d better leave,” Davy said formally, getting to his feet. 

“You know, somehow I feel like staying,” Spike said to Davy. He turned to Xander, who had tilted his head at the two of them as though he was trying to make up his mind about something. “I’m here, for fuck’s sake, to make sure you don’t do something stupid,” Spike said through gritted teeth.

“You know, that’s just rude,” Xander said sadly. He shrugged, as though he’d long ago given up on Spike’s company manners but was nonetheless disappointed by this recent incident. “I’m not doing anything stupid. I’m just having a drink. With Davy!” Xander rose unevenly, and slung an arm around Davy’s shoulders in a friendly manner.

“I think you can see that you’re not wanted here,” Davy said, glaring at Spike. “Xander is doing just fine without you. And just because you don’t want someone else to get close to him doesn’t mean you get to make his decisions for him, okay?”

“Not wanted . . . that seems kind of harsh, maybe. . . I mean, it’s not that you’re not _wanted_ ,” Xander told Spike earnestly. His eyes widened as Spike gripped his shoulders. Davy gasped loudly when Spike shook Xander hard. 

“Listen to me!” Spike shouted. “Stay away from him! You think that he’s alright, that he’s your friend. But he doesn’t give a fuck about you -- he wants you, yeah, but he doesn’t care what you want or what you need. And it’s not him you need. It’s me.”

The entire bar fell silent. “Hey, you better take that outside,” the bartender said warily.

“Go on then,” Davy hissed. “Get out of here. And get your hands off of him. I won’t let you hurt him again.”

“Hurt me? Spike never . . . Wait, I need you? It’s you?” Xander asked in confusion. He peered at Spike’s face, trying to get a read on what he was thinking, but he felt so wobbly, and Spike was so mad . . . maybe this wasn’t the best time to talk to Spike about everything. And Spike couldn’t be right about Davy, who’d been really great and understanding the whole time. 

Yet all at once Xander felt compelled to cross towards Spike and say something, anything, just to keep Spike there and make him explain what he meant about what he meant about being what Xander wanted and needed until Xander understood it the right way.

“I’m calling the cops . . .” the bartender warned, holding up the receiver.

“No need,” Spike said gruffly. He looked disdainfully at Davy, and then turned his gaze to Xander. He seemed about to say something else, but he shook his head and left without another word.


	22. The Wrong Guy

They walked into the apartment in silence, and Xander slumped unhappily on the couch. He wasn't sure he was remembering everything correctly. Had Spike really said that --

"You deserve more. You deserve having someone who will treat you better."

"Well, thanks," Xander said doubtfully. Davy had eased onto the couch next to him. He was staring intently at Xander with, what -- sympathy? Reassurance? Something else?

Xander looked down, and realized how close Davy was. He cleared his throat and thought fuzzily about how he should probably be doing something about that. It occurred to him that that something probably was moving off the couch, but then he suddenly figured out that Davy was still speaking to him. 

Xander squinted and tried to focus when he felt rather than saw something move towards him. When he looked up, his eyes were drawn to his right shoulder, and he saw Davy's hand resting there. Startled, he looked up into Davy's eyes.

"Hey, I just want you to be happy," Davy murmured. His hand was still on Xander's shoulder, except now his palm was rubbing small circles, brushing lower and forward past Xander's collarbone then gaining intensity as it reached his chest. His other hand joined it for a moment, then both hands gathered Xander's shirt and pulled him closer.

They kissed. 

And it was fine, it was more than fine. Xander lost himself for a moment, everything focused on the softness and growing pressure. He reached a hand up tentatively, lightly touching at Davy's hair rather than sliding his fingers through it. And Davy's hands were both on his chest, and then one nimbly flitted over the shirt Xander was wearing, smoothly slipping the buttons out of their holes. Xander let his breath out in a shudder. He felt Davy lean in and start to trace a line on his neck with his tongue.

Before long, all of the buttons were undone, and Xander's oxford was eased off, leaving him in his thin t-shirt. Davy returned his mouth to Xander's, pressing his lips against his, parting them. Xander noticed that his hands had begun running through Davy's hair, gently at first, then gripping tightly to draw Davy's face closer to his. 

Xander made a small surprised noise to find Davy's tongue inside his mouth, but the fuzziness in his head just made everything seem dream-like, and he dropped his hands to Davy's shoulders, gripped them tightly, and moaned into the kiss. And, hey, Davy could do some mean tricks with that tongue. And hands were holding him, easing down along his sides. Xander felt something ease inside him, some kind of resistance give way, and when had this seemed like a bad idea? When he felt a hand slide along his waist to his belt buckle, he thrust his hips up slightly without thinking. 

"Oh, Xander," he heard someone sigh, and he stiffened in confusion. Wait. He opened his eyes -- okay, light brown hair, green eyes under heavy lids, and this wasn't the right picture, was it? Wait a second.

"Wait!" Xander panted. "No, I don't want to -- " 

Davy drew back a little and smiled at him, and Xander could see that the smile wasn't entirely kind. 

"You know," Davy said softly, brushing his lips against the underside of Xander's jawbone, "you're going to have to get used to this sometime. I'm not trying to tell you who you are. But I can tell what you want. And you want this." 

Davy leaned forward again, and ran Xander's earlobe lightly through his teeth, moving further back to nuzzle the side of Xander's neck. "Hey," he murmured gently to Xander, the patience of a man sure in the knowledge that he was going to get his way. His right hand dropped to Xander's thigh, and began kneading it, starting to move in slow motion towards Xander's cock. "Hey, Xand . . . It's okay to say you want it." Davy slid his hand firmly over Xander's thigh, rubbing up to and over Xander's cock, stroking its hardness through the fabric with a steady rhythm. 

Xander felt a beat, two, three, as his heart started to speed up. His brain felt hazy and muddled, and he half closed his eyes waiting for . . . and his button fly was undone, and then . . . then he sat up sharply. 

He pushed himself back, panting, and shook his head. He caught Davy's wrist for a moment, then dropped it away a safe distance from his leg. 

Whether he wanted this or not, whether he knew who he was or if he had no clue, whether it was okay or if it was wrong -- all of those questions dropped away in the face of one answer. He felt the absurd urge to raise his hand and wave it around like he'd seen Willow do in every class for thirteen grades -- because he knew the answer. 

Whatever it was that was happening at this moment? Whatever it meant? The answer was clear. It wasn't happening with the right guy.

"Davy, seriously, stop." Xander moved to block another movement, and reached down with shaky hands to refasten his pants.

Davy shook his head incredulously. He drew himself up and walked a short distance away from the couch. "Xander," he said thickly, "I can't tell what it is you're after. I sure as hell don't want to call you a tease, but what the *fuck*? What's going on?"

Xander opened his mouth and shut it again. Without realizing it, he glanced at the door.

"Is that what this is about?" Davy followed Xander's gaze, and his voice dropped. "Is this about *him*? Here I am thinking you're caught up in trying to get away from him -- from Spike -- are you trying to get *with* him? Is this some stupid bad-boy thing? Do you *like* that he's probably going to screw you over, that he's the kind of guy who lives to hurt people? Are you going to run away from a chance to have something with anyone else because you're waiting for that prick to stop treating you like you're shit?"

Sitting on the couch, Xander felt a weird buzz start to rise in him. "Shut up," he said quietly, and then, louder. "Shut the fuck up."

"God, Xander! He's an asshole. He thinks he can have whatever he wants, whenever he wants."

"No. You don't know -- "

"Christ, Xander," Davy yelled. "What are you going to say? I don't know what I'm talking about? Because we both know that I do. Are you going to say that I don't know him, that I can't understand? Because I can tell you right now, I get him. Why are you holding back for him, for that fuck?" 

"You know what?" Xander began, and rose to his feet as he spoke. "You'd better shut up. You don't get to talk about him like that." 

Davy paled. "Fine. Fine. I've had it with this." He started to turn away, but then stopped. 

"I can't do something like this again." He turned and looked accusingly at Xander. "I won't let myself. I've been through this kind of thing before, and -- "

"Look, I'm sorry. I think I misled you, and for that I'm sorry. But, hey, you're not hearing me pleading for you to put yourself in this position." Xander said it evenly. "I'm not the person who has to pay for what happened between you and Michael, and I'm not the person who has to make it up to you. Maybe I don't know what I want, but it isn't this. It isn't you."

Something twisted over Davy's lips, an almost-smile, almost-grimace. "Okay. You sure aren't pulling any punches tonight." 

Xander shrugged. "I don't think it'd help either of us to be vague right now."

"Yeah." Davy sighed. "Listen, I can stay at my friend's place for a couple of nights. That'll give me time to get my stuff packed and out of here. I don't think you want me living with you if . . . "

Davy trailed off and waited. 

When Davy looked miserably at him, as though he were willing him to speak, Xander felt only slightly awkward. 

"Okay," Xander said carefully. "You'll start packing tomorrow."

"Um, okay," Davy replied. And that was that.

 

**********

 

Later, Xander lay still on his bed. He thought about his weird epiphany on the couch, and rolled his eyes at himself. Drama much? He pinched his arms a little, and then wriggled his toes experimentally. 

"Well, damn," he said quietly, then shoved his palm quickly into his mouth to stifle the case of giggles he felt bubbling up. Because he'd sort of gone to third with Davy. Because Davy was kind of an asshole. And because Xander was clearly insane. Because Xander liked Spike. He didn't like Davy, he liked Spike. He *liked* liked Spike. 

Well, he thought drowsily, if it had taken the whole month to figure it out, then at least he had something to check off on his accomplishments list. He stifled another giggle as he thought of scrawling the realization in the monthly notes section on the kitchen calendar. 

What I Did This Fall:

Item 1. Figured out am gay.  
Item 2. Realized want to get it on with undead British guy.  
Item 3. Shacked up with vicious undead killer (see item 2).

Xander wrinkled up his nose, trying not to laugh, then finally turned over and snorted and gasped into his pillow. He didn't think it'd be polite if Davy heard him howling with laughter in the next room. Not after he'd just told the guy that he didn't want it from him. 

Then his laughter dried up. Item 3. Shacked up . . . he couldn't write the last item on the list yet. It hadn't happened -- he hadn't even discussed it with Spike. 

And hey, it turned out there were two answers he'd figured out tonight. One, if whatever had happened tonight happened again, he wanted Spike to be the other guy on the couch. And two, he wanted Spike here again. He wanted Spike living with him.


	23. Friction

Clem whistled as he entered the crypt that morning. Shrugging off his jacket, he dropped it at the door and paused in the entryway, carefully balancing two hot beverages.

“Spike? Hey, you in here? I got you a latte!”

A figure still draped in a blanket sat bolt upright on the couch and snarled.

“Oh come on,” Clem said with a grin. “You look like you could use it.”

A hand shot out from underneath the blanket to accept the coffee, and Clem sat down on the lounge chair to drink his venti orange mocha. After a few minutes the blanket was shucked, and Spike crumpled the container, cursing as the last of the hot liquid hit his t-shirt. 

Clem’s mouth twisted sympathetically. “That looked like it burned. . . You want some Advil or Neosporin or something?”

Spike just scowled, flicking off droplets that had landed on the armrest.

“Okay then,” Clem said. “You want I should take off or . . .” he trailed off when Spike dropped his face into his hands. “Or, you know, I could stay. You okay, dude?”

“No,” Spike said.

Clem scratched his chest and considered. “ ‘No’ I shouldn’t go? Or ‘no’ you’re not okay? Or . . .”

“No and no,” Spike said wearily. 

“Rough night, huh?”

Spike merely looked at Clem. Then he blinked, and looked a little closer.

“It was at that,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. “But from the looks of things, not for both of us.” He eyed Clem appraisingly and smiled slightly. “That the same outfit from yesterday?”

“Yeah, uh, see the thing about that is,” Clem stammered a bit. Then he gave up and smiled widely. “I didn’t want to bug you about what was going on because you were wrapped up in your own stuff. But a couple of weeks ago -- man, it’s only been that long? -- my cousin introduced me to Cindy . . .”

“Cindy is it?” Spike asked, settling back onto the couch with his fingers laced behind his head. “Sounds like you’ve got quite a story there.”

“Well, Cindy is a pretty special girl,” Clem said seriously.

“Is she, erm . . .” Spike’s fingertips fluttered a bit at his face and neck.

“Oh, yeah,” Clem nodded. “Same nation of demon as me. Different clan, though.”

“Imagine your mum’ll be thrilled.”

A slight look of panic crossed Clem’s face. “Cindy’s talking about taking me to meet her brother. Freaks me out a little.”

“You’ll do all right,” Spike said shortly.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” Clem agreed. He regarded Spike for a moment then took a deep breath. “This crappy night of yours . . . got anything to do with Xander?”

Spike reached over to take a pack of cigarettes off the end table and tapped them down against his fist to pack them. He drew one out and lit it with a quick flick of his lighter. Clem watched him quietly. 

Spike took a long drag. “Think I missed my shot.”

Clem grimaced and nodded at the appropriate points as Spike filled him in on the events of the previous night. His eyes widened when Spike described following Xander and Davy to the bar. When Spike explained the volley of hostile comments between himself and Davy, he nearly interrupted, but he kept silent when he saw the frustrated look on Spike’s face.

“But you don’t actually know that anything happened,” he started cautiously as soon as the story was done.

Spike snorted. “If you’d seen him, drunk as all get out, sending off waves of pheromones, leaning over the table all intimate-like . . .”

“Nah,” Clem shook his head. “That doesn’t have to mean anything. As far as I can tell, the only way you’ll find out is if you ask him. I think you should go talk to him as soon as the sun goes down.”

Spike swung his feet to the floor and stood. “Yeah, ‘cause that did such a lot of good the last few times.”

Clem leaned back in his chair and considered this. “Maybe it’d be good if you went to talk but *you* didn’t say so much.”

Spike threw his hands up into the air. “How the hell am I supposed to resolve things if I’m to speak as little as possible?”

“Just work it out, okay?” Clem said in an exasperated tone. “But I think you should see him.”

Spike sank back down onto the couch and opened his mouth to protest some more.

“Uh . . . hey,” Xander said from the entrance with a small wave of his hand.

“I was just going,” Clem said quickly, scrambling to his feet.

“You’re often going when I get here,” Xander said with a frown. “I don’t mean to chase you away.”

“No, no . . . I’ve got a thing later that I have to get to anyway.”

“A thing?” Spike asked skeptically.

“A picnic,” Clem said. He blushed, looking somewhat shocked, thrilled, and worried all at the same time. “I’m bringing an apple pie. Is an apple pie good for a picnic?”

“Pie of any kind ranks high on the picnic must-have list,” Xander assured him.

“Great! Well, then . . . ” Clem smiled at Xander, looked pointedly at Spike, and took off.

“Hey,” Xander said again.

Spike looked him over, long and slow, and took an obvious sniff in his direction. 

“About that,” Xander began.

“Didn’t get into much then, eh?” Spike asked bitterly. “You do smell like him, you know. Not a lot, though, I’ll give you that -- must have decided to take things slow. This being your first time with a bloke and all. Should have known that he’d be the romantic type. I imagine you came here to give me the details. So have a seat. Tell me all about it, Xander. Did he--”

“Just stop, okay?” Xander asked. They stared at one another for a moment or two, then Xander slumped against the wall of the crypt.

“Look,” he said. He stopped and tried again. “See, the thing of it is . . . Stop that!” he said to Spike.

“Stop what?” Spike asked with a snort. 

“Stop looking at me like I just turned us all in to the man.”

“Wait . . . what man?” Spike asked in genuine confusion.

“You know,” Xander said miserably. “*The* man that you betray people to when you’re a big jerk. Like I sold everyone we know, but especially you, down the river. To the big house.”

“Ah,” Spike said. He grabbed onto the one part of Xander’s explanation that made sense to him. “You want to talk about betrayal then?” He looked at Xander accusingly, and Xander shook his head.

“Shut up for a minute so that I can explain things.”

Spike’s jaw tightened, but he gestured towards the couch, and Xander left his spot on the wall and eased onto the opposite end cautiously.

He sat looking for his hands at a moment. Spike quickly drew through another cigarette, and stabbed the filter against the ashtray.

Xander cleared his throat. “I asked Davy to move out. He left this morning. He’ll be back to get his things later this week.” He turned his head towards Spike. “Buffy’s going to hang out in the apartment while he does it so that I don’t have to see him.”

Spike tilted his head slightly, waiting. 

“Okay?” Xander asked desperately.

“What?” Spike shifted deliberately and turned towards Xander. “Is what okay?”

“I . . . alright, fine. You want to know more? We kissed a little. It’s not an excuse, but I was drunk and I didn’t stop it as soon as I should have. Which should have been right away. It wasn’t . . . he . . . you were right about some of the things you said.”

“Like?” Spike asked impassively. 

“Oh, come on,” Xander shot out. “You know what.”

“Humor me.”

Xander moved so that he faced Spike. “Alright. You were right about Davy wanting to try something with me. You were right about the kind of person that he is.”

“Is that what you came to tell me?” Spike asked.

“No. There’s more,” Xander said. He raked his fingers through his hair and dropped his hand to his lap. “I want to say the other stuff fast, because it’s hard, and that way if you don’t like it, it’ll be over more quickly. But that means I have to know everything I’m going to say already, and I just don’t.”

Spike waited, but no more information seemed forthcoming. “Well? You need to tell me what’s going on in your head. I’m not some bloody mind reader. What the hell do you want me to do?” Spike’s voice rose in frustration. 

“Just . . . I want you to hold still,” Xander whispered, and leaned in close to Spike, brushing their lips together slowly.

A half second passed before Spike pulled Xander in tightly and licked against the corners of his mouth. Xander’s lips parted with a small murmur, and Spike darted his tongue inside. 

Xander slid onto Spike’s lap, straddling him. “I want you,” he began in a hoarse voice.

“Oh fuck, I want you so much,” Spike said quickly. He scraped his teeth at the side of Xander’s neck and moved to run his tongue along the outside shell of Xander’s ear.

“No, I mean . . . I mean, yes, I mean, I want you that way too, I . . . ” Xander said. He pulled back and covered his mouth to hide the snicker.

Spike might have reacted badly to the seemingly random merriment, but the feel of Xander still on his lap, the laughter making his body tremble against him, the knowledge that they were *finally* getting somewhere turned all thoughts towards increasing this pleasure. So he grinned lazily, and brushed his palm against the hardness covered by Xander’s jeans.

“Oh god,” Xander gasped and laughed at once. “Seriously, though I want you . . .”

“Yeah . . .” Spike said in a low voice, pushing his hips up and making Xander gasp again. “Can feel that.” His hands moved around to stroke Xander’s ass, squeezing and pressing hard.

“Oh man,” Xander whispered. He opened dazed eyes to peer at Spike. “I can almost see the last vestiges of my straight-nitude running to catch the last bus out of town.”

Spike laughed then stood suddenly, eliciting a brief squeak from Xander. All at once he rearranged them on the couch, tugging at Xander’s legs to keep them wrapped around him. 

“No one’ll come in here?” Xander asked.

“Who the fuck cares?” Spike said hoarsely. He grinned again when he felt Xander thrust up against him with a soft moan. “Feel that, love? You make me so hard.” He rolled his hips then leaned down, sucking at Xander’s top then bottom lip before he began thrusting his tongue in and out between them.

Xander’s hands clenched and kneaded at Spike’s hips, softly at first, then rough enough to leave bruises. “Spike,” Xander gasped when he drew back for a moment to catch his breath. 

“Alright love?”

“I . . .” Xander blinked, shivered, and twisted his body to rub against Spike’s harder.

Spike wordlessly and slowly began tugging Xander’s t-shirt out of his jeans. He bent slightly, and following the path of the fabric, kissed along the exposed skin as he drew the shirt off, nuzzling the abdomen that quivered beneath his touch, brushing his lips against Xander’s chest, until he was biting those sweet swollen lips and pulling the t-shirt over his head. 

Xander scrambled to pull off Spike’s black t-shirt, and after a clumsy tussle, Spike emerged bare-chested, his hair standing on end and his eyes locked on Xander. Xander’s mouth formed a silent “oh!” as he tentatively stroked up and down Spike’s sides, abdomen, and back.

“No,” Xander panted when Spike touched his button fly.

“S’okay, won’t rush you,” Spike murmured, letting his hand fall away. 

“No, not that . . . Just can’t wait . . . I . . . fuck!” Xander called out desperately as he jerked up against Spike, his eyes rolling back as he felt himself shoot against the hard cock still rubbing against his own. 

“Gorgeous,” Spike hissed. “Gorgeous, you are.”

“Crazy sex-talking vamp . . .” Xander murmured after a moment. He shivered and plucked at Spike’s belt. 

Spike caught Xander’s hand and bit at the palm. “Next time, love. We’ll get our clothes off proper, and --”

“But . . . please . . . ”

“Don’t worry, yeah?”

“But . . . I want you to . . . on me,” Xander said, his face flaming.

“To what?” Spike said dumbly. He stilled.

“To come on me,” Xander said, releasing a pent up breath. Then he ducked his head, smiling a little. “Please,” he added again.

Spike’s face shifted from surprise to hunger, and he released his belt and jeans with a groan. He pulled out his cock and ran his hand down, stopping to press against the spot where the base met his groin, making it stand and fill out harder.

“Fuck,” Xander blurted, and reached out to twine his fingers around Spike’s. 

Eyes locked, they moved their hands together, pulling and sliding over the pulsing hardness. Spike shimmied up to straddle Xander’s groin, and he sucked in unnecessary air when he felt Xander’s cock twitch and harden again.

Another pull, another stroke, and Xander moved his hands back to Spike’s hips, choking back sounds as he thrust up against him once more. Spike clutched Xander’s chest with one hand to steady himself, the other hand almost a blur moving over his straining erection. 

Xander licked his lips and squirmed, and turned large hazy eyes up to Spike. With a low growl, Spike vamped out and he gave a single shout as he came hard, striping Xander’s chest with his cum. He continued to rock into Xander’s hard-on while he moved both hands to rub his semen into the spots where it had landed.

Xander’s eyes widened even more as he came again with a half-sob.

 

**********

 

Xander mumbled against the crook of Spike’s neck and shoulder, and Spike kissed the top of his head. He’d fallen asleep after planting groggy kisses on Spike’s lips and face, and Spike had laid awake curling his fingers though Xander’s hair, stroking Xander’s pretty neck, and enjoying the daze fogging his thoughts. 

“Waking up, are you?” Spike asked softly. 

“Kind of,” Xander yawned. Then he forced his eyes open and sat up. “I still have to ask you the thing I came here about.”

“Ask away,” Spike replied, sitting up also.

“Um. Okay. Here’s my question. And you can say no. Because it’s not like things between us have been completely clear, and maybe it’s not the hottest idea I’ve had. But we’ve done it before, except when things were different, and --”

“Xander.”

“Okay. So . . . any chance you want to move back in with me?”

Spike’s mouth twitched slightly. “You’re asking me to move in with you.”

“Right,” Xander replied nervously.

Spike smiled slowly. “Oh, I’d be a fool not to move in with you after that nice little dance you were doing under me on the couch,” he said, catching Xander’s chin in his hand and kissing him hard. 

“Spike, I’m serious,” Xander said sheepishly when he could breathe again.

“So m’I.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Xander got to his feet and stuffed his hands into his pockets, grinning. Then he grimaced, shifting in his pants. “Wish I had something to change into. These aren’t really good for outside wearing right now.”

Spike rubbed at the back of his neck with a scowl, and then cleared his throat. “Right. Well, the thing about that is, got a pair of your jeans here.”

Xander balked. “You . . . ”

Spike sighed. “When I moved out. Took ‘em with me. And don’t say another word.”

“You’re pretty fucking cute,” Xander announced with a wide smile. “It’d be sort of stalkery if it wasn’t so nice.”

“Yeah, well,” Spike said uncomfortably. He stalked off to get the jeans to the accompaniment of Xander’s laughter.


	24. With Extras

“Hey,” Oz said to Nathan. They were nearing the end of spring term, and to celebrate they’d planned for him and Willow to come to Nathan’s apartment for dinner. He swung through the open door and dropped his bag in the hall. 

Nathan smiled. “Hey yourself. You know you’re early?”

“Could be.” Oz shrugged out of his jacket. “Lost my watch a while ago.”

“Oz, you’re over an hour early.”

Oz cocked his head to the side, sweeping his eyes up and down Nathan. “That right? You need any help with stuff?”

“Nah.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

They regarded each other for a few moments, and then scrambled into the bedroom.

Nathan kissed Oz hard, thrusting his tongue through Oz’s willing lips. One hand threaded through Oz’s hair, the other massaged at his lower back. They parted to breathe, panting slightly, and then Nathan’s eyes shone with humor as he shoved Oz down on the bed with one hand. 

“Okay then,” Oz remarked when Nathan was on top of him, all over him, just a moment later. “Not that I mind . . . oh god . . . but what’s the rush?”

“Just haven’t seen you in a couple of days,” Nathan said. He pushed Oz’s t-shirt up, leaving it on, and trailed small bites down his chest.

“Yeah,” Oz breathed when Nathan moved lower down his body and pulled at the button fly until the jeans were open.

Nathan murmured something incomprehensible and trailed a finger up and down Oz’s erection. He brushed soft lips against the tip, at the rim of the head, and going further down mouthed Oz’s sac. 

Oz thrust up quickly with a choked sound, and Nathan pressed his hips back down with a firm hand. “Stop that.”

“Fuck,” Oz said hoarsely.

“Just be patient for a sec.”

“Patient, huh? Not helping *where* you’re saying that,” Oz muttered, twisting under Nathan’s hot breath.

“What?” Nathan asked in an innocent whisper. He pulled off Oz’s jeans all the way with one hand and pushed his legs up with the other. When he blew along Oz’s crease lightly, pausing to dart his tongue out against the small opening, Oz let out a cry. 

“Tease,” Oz murmured when Nathan moved away.

“Hey,” Nathan objected mildly. “You’re only a tease if you don’t follow through. And look. Here’s me, following through.” He eased up and slid his mouth tightly down Oz’s cock.

“Damn,” Oz said quietly. He raised himself on elbows to watch himself thrusting into Nathan’s mouth. Nathan’s eyelashes fluttered when Oz combed his fingers through his hair, gently resting his palm on his cheek and guiding him.

“That’s it,” Oz whispered when Nathan moved a hot palm under his balls and caressed them. “Oh . . . yeah. . .” he groaned when the strokes sped up.

Nathan slid his hands underneath Oz’s lower back, pulling him up and encouraging him wordlessly to thrust faster. Oz gasped and obliged, twisting and pushing into Nathan’s soft hot mouth. One of Nathan’s hands crept up, rubbing hard at Oz’s nipple, and . . .

“Oh . . .” Oz shuddered, shooting into Nathan’s mouth. He lay there panting as Nathan kissed his way back up. Nathan stroked his chest slowly, and their lips came together in a languid kiss.

“You totally started without me,” Willow said in amazement. “You guys suck big time.”

“Um . . . hi?” Oz said blearily from the bed. Nathan slid off the mattress hastily, and Oz sat up and put his jeans back on while Willow remained rooted in the doorway. 

“I was coming over to see if Nathan needed help, and . . . here I thought having an extra key was a good thing.” Willow frowned.

Nathan rubbed his head sheepishly. “Sorry . . . just . . . Oz was early, and . . . ”

Oz sighed and looked at Willow. “Hey, it’s not like you guys didn’t do the same thing to me last week.”

Willow sputtered. “What? That was different. It so wasn’t planned! I didn’t know that Nathan was going to be wearing that dark blue polo shirt when I came over to study with him. He was completely irresistible!”

“Really?” Nathan asked with interest. “The blue one?” Then he shook his head. “Well, you guys get together without me, too. Just last Thursday I called to make plans and you both were in Oz’s room. I mean, that’s fine. I’ve only been on the scene for a little bit, and I know that. It does make me feel a little left out, though.”

“Well, there is that whole living on campus thing. And you’re here, so . . .” Willow started. Oz nodded in agreement. 

“But you have a spare key?” Oz asked Willow in confusion. She opened her palm to show him the key chain, and he eyed it with an odd look on his face.

“Yeah, I should have given you both . . .” Nathan started, and then shook his head.

“It’s . . . it’s not a problem. Maybe there’s been some weirdness getting used to this, but it’s not like we can’t all hang out separately. Or, you know, together,” Oz offered.

“Together is always good,” Nathan said with a small smile.

“So we should be able to deal,” Oz said. Nathan nodded. 

“It’s just strange sometimes,” Willow said sadly.

They both turned to Willow, apprehension on their faces.

“Is it *too* strange?” Nathan asked.

“No, but . . . I don’t know . . . oh, come on, I can’t talk about this in here.” Willow motioned them to follow her, and they shifted from the bedroom to the living room.

Once they were settled on the couch there, Nathan took a deep breath. “So.”

Oz glanced at Willow.

“Yeah,” she said uncertainly.

“The weird and the strange. Okay. I guess if we’re trying to get things out on the table . . . I do come over here sometimes after shows by myself,” Oz said with a shrug. “Nathan’s place is right near the Bronze, and--”

“And Willow and I end up hanging out on campus afternoons,” Nathan said hesitantly. “Because of the psychology class we have together.”

“You’re in her class?” Oz asked in confusion.

“So are you; it’s just that you never show,” Willow reminded him.

“Oh, *that* class,” Oz nodded.

Willow twisted her hands together for a moment. “You know, maybe I’m not cool enough to handle this.”

Nathan opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “It has nothing to do with being cool, Willow, but if you’re not happy . . .”

“It’s not that I’m not happy, but I’m not not unhappy,” Willow said. 

“Could you translate that one?” Oz asked doubtfully.

“I’m not . . .” Willow gestured and then sighed. “I like this. I like both of you. And all the individual stuff has been good . . . but I feel strange on the overall front. Jealous when I’m not with you guys if you’re hanging out just the two of you, kind of guilty if I’m just with one of you, sort of still feeling out the dynamic when we’re all together. And it’s not like I have lots of practice with relationships in general. Plus this? Not so much with the precedents, at least with the people I know.”

“It’s true that this is a new thing,” Oz said. “Maybe we’re not talking about it enough.”

“Maybe you guys need some time alone,” Nathan said, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Maybe both those things,” Willow said with a pained look. “But then time alone . . . does that mean that I have time alone with Oz? What if Oz doesn’t want to have the time alone thing, and wants to see you, Nathan? Is it fair for me to ask him to back off because I’m uncomfortable?” She blinked quickly and looked away. “Or maybe time alone means being away from both of you for a little while.”

“No!” Oz said quickly.

“I’m sorry, I just . . .” “Willow gathered up her things quickly and left.

There was a long silence. Then Oz and Nathan regarded one another.

“I should . . .” Oz trailed off.

“Of course,” Nathan mumbled.

“Okay. I’ll . . . we’ll talk,” Oz said. He paused at the door. “Um. Bye.”

“Bye,” Nathan said quietly.

 

**********

 

Xander shoved the last box of Spike’s stuff in through the door and took a deep breath. Okay. For real. He was now officially living with one hot, albeit undead, guy. Not in a roommate-y way. In a *living with* way. With all the extras.

Davy had come to get his stuff a few days earlier. Buffy had supervised the entire operation, and reported that it had been accomplished relatively quickly and quietly.

“Did you help him with his stuff?” Xander had asked when she told him about the afternoon.

“Nope,” Buffy said cheerfully. “I just watched him lurch around with the boxes. He needs to build some upper body strength, you know?”

“What did you do the whole time he was here?” Xander asked curiously.

“My nails,” Buffy explained. She held them out for him to see. “Pale buff. You like?”

“Very nice. And he didn’t . . . I don’t know, try to grill you about anything, or make any comments?”

“He did ask me about my bag, where I got it,” Buffy said thoughtfully. “And I told him that I liked his brown shoes. Turns out that they’re both Kenneth Cole. I’ll miss the fashion commiseration, that’s for sure. But that was it. No grilling and no remarks, snide or catty or nosy or otherwise.”

“Good, that’s good,” Xander had said.

“What comes next?” Buffy asked with a grin.

“Next, I move Spike in.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Wow.”

And now here they were.

“So!” Xander said in an overly bright voice. “Here we are!”

“Yeah,” Spike said. He seemed perplexed by Xander’s announcement. “Here we are.”

Xander paused. “Are you as weirded out as I am?”

Spike shot him an annoyed look. “No! ‘Course not. Just adjusting is all.”

“Right,” Xander said sarcastically. “I’m freaking. You’re *adapting*.”

Tilting his head, Spike considered that. “Yeah, good word that. Adapting. Freak away. While you do that, I’ll just see what’s on the telly.”

“No way,” Xander said with a firm shake of his head. “You have to hang out with me while I wig out, and talk me through it. That’s what relationships are all about.”

“Relationships?” Spike asked in confusion. “I thought we were just living together.”

Xander exhaled. “Living together . . . this way? With extras? Means we’re in a relationship. This isn’t just the fun groin-y stuff . . . it’s . . . other stuff too! Okay?”

Spike’s eyes appeared to have glazed over.

“What?” Xander asked impatiently. 

A smile spread across Spike’s face, and if there was anyone who could smile through flashes of impatience, sweetness, and just plain predatory scheming, it was Spike. “You said living together . . . with extras . . .”

“Yeah,” Xander said. For some reason he was having a hell of a time swallowing. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Spike was advancing on him. “So . . . what happens next?”

“C’mon then,” Spike almost-purred, and Xander let Spike take his hand and lead him dumbly to the bedroom. Yeah. So much for the talking. 

Xander had thought that this moment would be rushed, frantic, and moving at the speed of light towards the inevitable conclusion of full-on, slightly scary man-sex.

But instead Spike kissed him slowly, sliding his t-shirt up and off in a fluid motion, then pulling his own off casually. They parted their lips almost at the same time, and there were small breathy sounds that made Xander start to quiver and begin to pull at Spike’s head, forcing him closer. When Spike coaxed Xander onto the bed, rubbing his shoulders while he continued to draw harder on his lips, Xander settled in with anticipation and nervousness clear on his face.

“This is what happens next?” Xander asked with widening eyes as Spike continued rubbing down Xander’s sides, his fingers tracing the line over the top edge of Xander’s jeans, dipping in slightly to ghost over the skin underneath.

“Whatever you want,” Spike murmured. “Not going anywhere now, am I?”

“No,” Xander whispered. “You’re staying.”

“Right then,” Spike nodded. He gazed intently at Xander before gathering him in his arms and holding him tightly.

“We should have a dinner party,” Xander’s muffled voice pronounced against Spike’s neck.

“We should what?” Spike asked a little too loudly right into Xander’s ear. Xander made a displeased noise at the rise in tone, so Spike let go of Xander with a sigh and sat on his heels, holding his hands up like he was ceding the floor.

“Oh . . . I mean . . . you don’t have to stop.” Xander glanced down. Spike looked vaguely impatient, but he drew Xander’s chin back up gently with his hand.

“What, Xander?”

“It’s just that you’re here now, and you aren’t going. And I want you not to be going. So dinner party -- that’s what you do when you’re a non-roommate-y, living-with-somebody type person . . . and/or vampire, of course . . . Because you want everyone to know and be glad for you. And then they all bring wine, and kind of approve of everything, and after you all get drunk and eat lots of things together, you know they’ve got your back.”

“And this is important why?” Spike asked.

“Because it helps. It makes it . . . official. It bolsters everything. It gets everyone in on the deal and ties it together tighter.”

Spike twisted his lips as he pondered this.

“People bring wine?”

“They have to . . . it’s like the most important dinner party rule.”

“Well, if there’s going to be lots of wine,” Spike said with a grin. Xander rolled his eyes, and Spike continued. “This matters to you?”

“Yeah. Everyone’s been sort of involved from . . . way back . . . in this thing with us --”

“Probably would have been better if they hadn’t been,” Spike observed.

“And they’re part of all the things that I do, so yeah, it matters,” Xander went on, glaring at Spike.

“Okay then. You want it. We’ll do it.” 

“Okay.” Xander released a deep breath and smiled widely.

“Right then,” Spike said with raised brows, and started undoing Xander’s jeans button by button, nuzzling his way towards Xander’s cock.

 

**********

 

“Alright, what the hell is going on?” Buffy said. She stood in the hallway outside Nathan’s apartment with her hands clenched into tiny fists and crossed her arms.

“What?” Nathan asked weakly. When he’d heard the sharp little knock at his door, he hadn’t exactly expected to find Buffy there.

Buffy jabbed him in the chest with an accusing finger. “Willow. Is *crying* in our room right now. She’s not taking Oz’s calls. And she refuses to say what’s going on. So I’m thinking that you have some explaining to do.”

Nathan blinked, stepped aside, and waved her in. “Hi, Buffy.”

Buffy stomped in and sat down on the couch in a huff. “So talk.”

Nathan sat on the other end of the couch and stared straight ahead. “Oz and Willow . . . I really want to be with them. I thought that they both were okay with it, but now I’m thinking they’re not okay.”

Buffy gave him an impatient look and he continued. “Oz came over and . . . we started up. Willow got here and was surprised, upset. We tried to talk about it. Then Willow left. Oz went after her. And here I am. That’s it.” 

“Oh,” Buffy said in confusion. “Started up . . . what do you . . . oh! . . . Oh, wow.” She uncrossed her arms, crossed them again, and then frowned at her fists.

“Hey, Buffy? If you’re going to start hitting me, can you wait a little bit?” Nathan asked in a weary voice. “This has been a hell of a night.”

Buffy nodded, not looking directly at Nathan. “Sounds like.”

“Okay,” Nathan said sadly. “You can wait out here if you want. I’m just going to go lie down for a little while.”

“All right,” Buffy said in a quiet voice. “And Nathan? Just so you know -- I’m probably not going to beat you up or anything.”

“Good to know,” Nathan replied with a slow nod. 

“I’m . . . I don’t know what I think about all of this, but I’m sorry that you’re hurting. That all of you are.”

“Me too.” Nathan shut the door quietly behind him and Buffy hugged her arms to herself on the couch and tried to think about what should happen next.


	25. New and Shiny Living Situation

“Okay. Willow. Buffy. Giles.” 

Pause.

“What? What’s that, then?”

“You’re not going to get huffy about Giles? I thought for sure his name would get a rise out of you. Or, you know, at least a ‘grr’.”

“Look, I’ve no problem with Giles. Not that he’ll make the most thrilling addition to this little shindig you’re planning, but at least he gave his staid, Rule-Britannia blessing to us at long last.”

“Which, good . . . though I’m so _so_ glad that I wasn’t there to witness. Anyway, so there’s no issue with--”

“Now if you were inviting that berk Davy, I’d--”

“Give me a break. Oh sure, invite Davy, and while I’m at it, I could invite his other weird ex-boyfriend roommate-type-guy, Michael, and then we could just cut the tension in the air . . . along with various kinds of cake and pie.”

“Well, well. _Other_ weird ex-boyfriend guy? What would that make you, pet?”

“Nothing! I mean, maybe in his warped mind of saving me from bad-old abusive-y you, he thinks there was something between us, but . . .”

“All the more reason to kill him, slowly and painfully.”

“Did you miss the part where we try to move _away_ from the abusive-y associations? Even if the chip wasn’t an issue, you can’t kill a guy just because he tried to get me drunk and . . . oh right. Look who I’m talking to here.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

There was a significant pause as Xander absorbed this reminder.

“Am I insane that I think this is weirdly adorable? That it’s cute that you’d take out a guy who made a pass at me?”

“Evisceration is in no way adorable.”

“Well, when you put it so colorfully -- alright. Not cute. Oddly hot. But me saying that is strictly off record.”

“Like it though, do you? Don’t you worry about the chip, love. Now that I’m in good with your fluffy friends, maybe Willow could conjure up a bit of chip-free quality time for all of my important torturing needs.”

Spike pursed his lips, sucking in his cheeks slightly. Xander began backing away, but not quickly enough to avoid the pounce and scuffle. 

“Don’t say that and pin me down at the same time! This is _not_ supposed to get me hot.”

“Oh, you _wicked_ thing . . .”

“Stop the sexy twisting -- even if the topic of freakish torture was not on the table, we’re supposed to be planning the guest list for the dinner party.” 

“What’s to figure out? Your usual gang, yeah; people I want to kill, no.”

“Spike . . . you know that I can’t make notes if you’ve got both my wrists held down. Oh! And what about Clem?”

“Oh right. Mustn’t forget the former roommate who was actually _nice_. Just the ones we’d enjoy disemboweling.”

“Stop looking so smug. Just because you’re the one who ended up with the good, albeit demonic, roommate, even after all that interviewing crap that Buffy and Willow put me through, it’s no reason to--”

“Don’t forget his bird as well.”

“Not that I can jot that reminder down in this position . . . but Cindy isn’t _actually_ a bird-demon, is she?”

“No, no -- very Clem-like, but female.”

“That sounds . . . oddly, that’s much easier to picture than I’d have guessed. Female Clem.”

“You know, Clem is considered very attractive among his demon clan.”

Another significant pause while Xander’s eyes got very big.

“Please don’t tell me you have a crush on Clem.”

“No! I’m just explaining that his girl is considered a looker for her kind, so no smart remarks about her appearance.”

“Oh, for the love of Pete -- I’m not going to insult Clem’s lady-friend. I’m sure she’s a peach, and she goes on the invite list for sure. Now . . . let me up so that I can go write all this down.”

“Who else is there to add besides Willow’s two cuddle-puppies?”

“I can’t add them so much as make sure to ask them _not_ to come. I almost thought they’d talk it out. I mean, I know that Willow got pretty upset, walking in on Nathan and Oz getting it on. I guess I just thought, hey, unusual combination, but seems like it’ll work itself out. But what with Willow crying for days, Oz in big time band rehearsals, and Nathan pretty much keeping to himself, there hasn’t been a chance to even suggest that to any of them. So Oz and Nathan and Willow together in the same room . . . not exactly a recipe for levity and polite dinner party banter.”

“Yeah, I know all that. But _still_?”

“Well, yeah . . . these kinds of things don’t work themselves out overnight.”

“And I would in no way realize that, seeing as how you took ever so long to make up your mind about me.”

“I’ll admit I was a little . . . hesitant . . . stop making that face!”

“Fine! Such an easily wounded boy you are . . .”

“Well, you don’t have to look so excited about it.”

“Oh, sure, take all the fun out. And as for the three lovelorn chickens, be best to have ‘em all here for the party.”

“Uh . . . do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Neutral ground. And, here for another reason, to celebrate us, so it’d be rude to squabble the entire time. And wine and good food always helps --”

“And dessert.”

“And dessert, love -- helps to soften hard feelings.”

“Wow. I’m . . . impressed. You’re good at this.”

“This? The bleeding dinner party?”

“Yeah. That. The stuff with Willow. Waiting for me. All of this. For how long it took me to figure stuff out, for me getting more comfortable with the idea, for . . . everything. How come you’re so good at all this?”

“Because it’s you, pet. I’m good at things when I care, and I care about you.”

“That’s . . . well, I kinda figured, but nice to hear.”

“It’s nice to hear, but it’s nicer to _show_.”

“Hence the dinner party and the showing of us to everyone else.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Let me just call Nathan and Oz . . . oh, and Clem and Cindy . . . and was there anything else I forgot to write down? What else, Spike? Oh, maybe . . .”

“I’m not following you down the hall to watch you natter about trying to make more plans. There’s no need for this all to get complicated. Pet? Are you listening to me?”

 

********

 

“You’re not listening to me, are you?”

Willow took a deep shaky breath and raised her eyes, meeting Buffy’s steady and sympathetic gaze. “I . . . I heard you.”

“No, Will, you really didn’t. Otherwise I don’t think you would’ve agreed to letting me perm and dye your hair and dress you up in a brown pleather cat-suit.”

Willow cracked a small smile. “What color are we dyeing my hair?”

“I was thinking purple with orange stripes,” Buffy said seriously. “Hey . . . it’s good to see you smile, even if it’s just for a second.”

“Guess I haven’t been so much with the happy lately,” Willow said with a sigh.

“For good reason,” Buffy said softly.

“Yeah, but . . . it’s not like the world is coming to an end. Right?” Willow’s face screwed up tight as she tried to hold back another onslaught of tears.

“Might kind of feel that way . . . but no. Things are rough right now, Will, I get that. But I think you need to get back in the swing.”

Willow looked about ready to protest, and Buffy held up one hand.

“Not that I expect you to go singing and skipping around campus right away.”

“That’s good, because I’m not in a very tra-la-la mood,” Willow said mournfully.

“Okay. No tra-la-ing. But going to class again would be good. And going to the dinner party that Spike and Xander are planning would be a fun night out away from the land of damp tissues and sad 80’s movies.”

“But I really wanted to see *Terms of Endearment* again,” Willow argued. At Buffy’s skeptical look, she tried again. “*The Color Purple*?”

“Let me think . . . um, no.”

“But . . . okay, I’m happy for Spike and Xander, but why do I have to . . . but you know, I’m really not! I’m not happy for them. I’m going through something tough, and why should I have to root on their new and shiny living situation? I don’t want to go over there and watch them be all ‘ooh, you’re so scary’ and ‘oooh, you’re so goofy’ and slobber all over each other!”

“Well, when you put it that way . . . Seriously, it’s not just them. It’s me, and you, and Giles, and lots and lots of food which Xander has assured me is coming from take-out places, so you know that it will be actually yummy. Please, Will? It’ll be fun . . . and if it’s not fun, it’ll be something resembling fun, and that’s better than the scene you’ve got going on over there.” Buffy gestured to Willow’s bed, piled high with used tissues, a ratty afghan, Mr. Gordo and assorted other stuffed animals, and a red-eyed straggly-haired Willow sitting amidst it all in the same pajamas that she’d been wearing for three days straight.

“When is it?” Willow asked warily.

“Tonight. Which gives you plenty of time to shower and change and get into that cat-suit!”

Buffy flounced out of the room in her terry cloth robe to head to the showers herself. 

Willow sat up on the bed and with a determined set to her chin, got to her feet. Then she faltered.

“Buffy . . . you didn’t really mean it about that cat-suit . . . Buffy?”

 

***********

 

“I don’t know,” Oz said into the phone. “Yeah, we’ll see. Okay. Bye.”

“What was that all about?” Devon asked from his pose on Oz’s bed with his legs up against the wall.

“Dinner thing at Spike and Xander’s. Willow’ll be there. Nathan might be.”

“Oh man, then you have to go!”

“I don’t think I do,” Oz said, frowning.

Devon dropped his legs to the mattress and turned over onto his stomach to look at Oz slumped up against the headboard. “Why the hell not?”

“I just . . . she needs some space.”

“Three of you get any more space and you’ll be at opposite points of the compass,” Devon remarked. 

“Maybe.”

“Besides . . . you’re just going to give up all of that sex?”

Oz looked at Devon sharply. “You know, wacky as this might sound, it wasn’t just all about the sex.”

Devon regarded him, chin propped in his palm. “So they know that, right?”

“Know what?”

Devon waved a hand around impatiently. “They know that it wasn’t just about the sex . . . with just one of them, with both of them . . . that you got together, you and Willow, with Nathan because you dug him, and you stayed together for how long you did because it worked, the three of you together, and not just the fucking. It was like a really good combo.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they know that.”

Devon pulled himself up into a cross-legged position and gave Oz a hard shove to the shoulder.

Oz remained in the sideways position he’d landed in, and looked up at Devon. “Okay. And that followed perfectly from the conversation.”

“You’re a moron,” Devon said bluntly.

Oz just looked away.

“Why did it break up? You and Nathan having sex without Willow. What was the weird? Who was fucking who when the other one wasn’t there. Jesus, Oz, they _do_ think it’s about sex. Nathan probably thinks that to you he was an experiment fuck to see how you like guys and how much it turned Willow on, and now that your girlfriend wigged you’re back with her. I bet Willow freaked because she isn’t a guy, and ain’t nothing going to change that if that’s what you like better. And seeing you with someone with different equipment, without her, makes her think, well hell, do I even fit in this picture? Meanwhile, you’re letting the bookings and rehearsals distract you from dealing.”

Oz took a breath but Devon kept going.

“Hey, don’t think I don’t like having you around more. It’s cool that you have time to rehearse. But not like this, man, when you’re so wrung out you can’t get it together. You like Nathan and Willow both, and you like them together, not just because they’re giving it up for you, but because you’re all good for each other. But fine, don’t tell them that if you think they already _know_. Because I don’t see anyone getting the light dawning on them with all the not-knowing and not-understanding going on around here. You don’t want to talk to them, fine. But you’re going to lose them both. And then you’ll be well and truly screwed.”

Oz nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Devon asked, still worked up.

“Okay,” Oz said simply. “I’ll go.”


	26. Ready

“Everything’s ready,” Xander announced. “For the dinner party, that is. All the food is here, and the pasta salad and the other junk just gets served cold, so we don’t have to heat anything up. And I cleaned the bathroom one last time, and put out the plates and stuff . . . so it’s all done.”

“Good,” Spike muttered. He frowned at the magazine he held tightly in his hands. 

Xander took note of Spike’s expression and raised his eyebrows. “I know you’re not so big on the preparation and planning.”

“Think so?” Spike asked evenly.

“Well, yeah,” Xander said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting there, glaring at an upside-down copy of _Comic Con International_ like you want it to burst into flames.” 

Spike glanced at Xander, annoyance on his face. “So . . . your point?”

“So,” Xander continued. “My point is that everything’s _ready_.”

Spike stared for a moment before he followed Xander’s head tilt towards the clock. Five hours until the guests were due to arrive . . .

Two beats, and Spike had Xander stretched out under him on the couch, pinning him down, gripping his wrists above his head, and covering his mouth with a hungry kiss.

“Damn,” Xander said weakly when he was allowed a deep breath. 

Spike scanned the room with a frown, then stood and hauled Xander over his shoulder.

“Hey!” Xander protested. 

Spike paused momentarily to sigh. “Don’t want to mess up the room and get you distracted into cleaning it all over again for this little fête of yours, yeah?”

“Oh,” Xander nodded wisely from his upside-down position as Spike quickly made for the bedroom. “That’s actually . . . that’s nice of you.”

“Yeah, well,” Spike muttered, but he gave Xander’s thigh a squeeze.

“Okay, dizzy now,” Xander gasped when Spike tossed him unceremoniously onto the bed.

“Have you dizzy in a minute for different reasons,” Spike said in a low voice. He straddled Xander, one hand on Xander’s chest, and moved his hips in a slow circle.

“Oh yeah,” Xander said softly. “Like that. Just keep on doing . . . no, wait.”

“Wait?” Spike asked. His tone was even but his lips were drawing forward in what almost looked like a pout.

“I don’t mean . . . I meant . . . oh god,” Xander panted out. “It’d help if you stopped with the grinding for just a second.”

“Okay then,” Spike agreed in a sultry voice. “No grinding.” He switched to moving his hips forward and back a little, making a motion that could hardly be classified as thrusting but that still made Xander gasp.

“No, I said wait because . . . maybe this time, we could . . . I think I would . . . if you want . . .”

Spike stilled completely. “You sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure,” Xander said softly. “I know you said it was cool if we took things at my pace, and the . . . fuck . . . rubbing off and the blow jobs and the other stuff . . . it’s not like we haven’t been entertained. And I’m saying entertained in a kind of ‘Oh, god, yes, please, _again_!’ kind of a way, in case you weren’t sure. And when I said that it -- you know, the big time sex -- freaked me out just a little you said it was no rush, but I thought --”

“Xander,” Spike said firmly. “Not going anywhere. Mean that when I say it. Love it when you come for me, however it is we get there. Love it when I taste you, or feel you hard against me, or see you taking me in your mouth. Love to bring you off when you’re panting and squirming and making those pretty little sounds because you’re trying not to let go just yet. Love it all . . . so I’m not exactly what you’d call unsatisfied.” He skimmed a palm over Xander’s chest and finished softly, “We go further when you say you’re ready.”

Exhaling noisily, Xander pushed his hips up just a little. “I’m thinking that ‘ready’ is too low-key of a description to go with how much I want you to fuck me right now, Spike.”

Spike gazed down at him for a moment before nodding vigorously. “Right, well, if you’re sure--” He stood and his clothes came off so rapidly that Xander barely had time to blink before his own jeans and t-shirt were being pulled off. 

Another beat and Spike had gotten lube out of the night-table drawer and was crawling onto the bed and up Xander. 

“Oh boy,” Xander breathed when Spike lay on top of him, making him yelp by drawing blunt teeth against his neck and sliding his hands down Xander’s torso. “This is it. No two ways about it. Sex. Man sex. You and me, and full on gay. We’re really going to -- okay, I’ll shut up,” he added hastily at Spike’s pointed look.

“You don’t have to shut up, baby,” Spike growled at him as he eased off slightly and pushed at Xander’s thighs until Xander pulled his legs up, gripping at the back of each knee. “Talk away -- just make sure you’re saying dirty, nasty things.” 

“Well, I will if you do stuff that makes me -- oh, oh, _fuck_ ,” Xander gasped, trembling when Spike’s fingers dipped into and trailed along his cleft. 

“ ‘s a good start,” Spike said hoarsely. “Fuck . . . always a classic.” He ran feather-light touches back and forth until Xander cried out and pushed against his fingers, trying to direct their path. 

“Keep going,” Xander demanded.

“Don’t want me to stop at all then?” Spike asked the question with a smirk, but he was gentle as he eased the first lubed finger inside. 

Xander made a funny face, moving his lower back against the mattress slightly. His face twitched a little, and his trembling slowed.

Spike paused. “You want me to . . .”

“No, don’t stop,” Xander said gamely, but his brow was furrowed. “Just feels weird is all.”

“Does the first time,” Spike agreed. 

“Yeah,” Xander said in a waver-y tone. He looked up to see Spike’s eyes focused intently on him, and made a surprised noise when Spike leaned forward and caught his lips in a kiss. 

“What?” Xander asked softly.

“First time, lovely. First time anyone’s inside you . . . and it’s me, getting you ready, and it’s me that’s going to have you.” Spike half-growled, half-cooed the words as he eased a second finger inside, stroking and turning.

“Last of the great romantics, or something,” Xander murmured. His eyes closed and he bit his lower lip in concentration, focused on the awkward feeling of the fingers as they moved in and out. For a few moments his face, unbeknownst to him, scrunched into a frown. Okay, now this? Did not feel so sexy. But all the other sex-things he’d done with Spike had pretty much made him lose his breath, or gibber, or wail, or pant like a dog, so at least he knew the path of the gay seemed like the best one for him. And it wasn’t like everything could be incredible all of the time, right? On the other hand, this particular sex-thing was the _major_ thing, and if he didn’t like it, it might make things weird . . .

“Not supposed to be able to hear the wheels turning inside that head of yours when I’m doing this,” Spike said. He didn’t stop, though his movement slowed. “We can wait ‘til next time, Xander. It doesn’t have to be --”

Xander’s eyes flew open. “No. No way. I’m ready, you’re ready, and here we are part way . . . and I don’t want to stop. So . . .there.”

Spike raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, merely moving to add more slick to his fingers. But as he started again, Xander suddenly smiled, and Spike shook his head and smiled back.

“Something funny?” Spike inquired.

“Can you take your fingers, uh . . .” Xander gestured vaguely.

“Right,” Spike murmured, pulling his hand away from Xander and doing his best to look patient. “What now?”

Xander took a deep breath and smiled again. “This is too much like . . . I don’t know, all roads finally leading to the big bang. Maybe we’re too used to making things complicated between us. And now I’m getting all nervous, and you’re too serious. So stop with the careful prep work. Let’s just have the main thing.”

“Sure?” Spike asked. “Don’t want to make it uncomfortable, or cause you any --”

“It’s just going to be weird,” Xander interrupted him. “So get on with it, and let’s bring on the weirdness, and see what else happens if we can get past that part.”

“Look at you, all devil-may-care all of a sudden. Think I like you this way, pet,” Spike said in a low smooth voice. 

“You like me all kinds of ways,” Xander said playfully. Then he added, “I just want you to appreciate how wacky it is to talk about this while I’m lying on my back, totally naked, holding my legs up to my ears, about to kiss my cherry boy status goodbye forever.”

Spike grinned and moved slightly to nip at Xander’s legs. “Never let it be said that I don’t appreciate you lying on your back totally naked, whatever else it is we’re discussing.”

“So . . .” Xander said, and wriggled his ass at Spike.

“So . . .” Spike replied, and placed one hand on Xander’s chest while he used the other to brush his cock-head against Xander.

“Okay, obvious point, but how much larger than a couple of fingers is that,” Xander said in a hoarse voice. He swallowed and moved his hands to rest on Spike’s shoulders. “Okay. Go for it.”

Spike lowered his lashes, and Xander let out a breath as he felt him press against, then finally begin to ease inside, of him. When Spike stilled, grasping fingers clutching at Xander’s chest, Xander nodded for him to continue. 

“It’s okay then,” Spike managed.

“Majorly weird,” he whispered back. “But yeah, it’s okay.” 

“Hang on,” Spike said, his voice strained. His eyes were cast down, and when Xander realized that was because Spike was watching himself enter at that slow careful pace, he shivered and unthinkingly tilted his hips upward. 

Then there was a give and a slide and Spike was pretty much in all of the way. 

“Wow,” Xander said shakily. Spike said nothing, but the sound coming from his throat registered somewhere between a moan and a growl. 

“Tell me when,” Spike hissed.

“Tell you when what?” Xander asked in wonderment. “Oh! You mean like moving. Yeah, moving . . . moving would be good. Move now, okay?”

If it was possible for someone to snort and roll their eyes while at the same time looking overcome with excitement, then the expression that had taken up residence on Spike’s face made perfect sense. He thrust forward, eliciting a small cry from Xander (who quickly realized that, yes, Spike _could_ in fact get further inside him), and rapidly shifted so that Xander’s ankles were over Spike’s shoulders, his legs bent even closer to his chest. 

“Want this, don’t you?” Spike asked harshly, his top lip curling up as his jaw tightened. 

“God, yes, want this,” Xander cried out, feeling the next thrust like a chain reaction that sent a spark from deep inside him to the top of his head and back down again to his cock.

“Want me?” Spike panted, beginning to twist his hips, moving and angling with each thrust.

“Please, yes, now . . . want you,” Xander whimpered.

“Love me?” Spike asked suddenly. His next stroke went from almost all the way outside to all the way he’d gone in so far and then some. Xander gasped, snaked one hand in between them to grip his cock and desperately fisted the sheets with the other.

“Love, Spike, love you,. . . please, love you, fuck me hard . . . Spike, please!”

“Fucking beautiful you are,” Spike groaned. “Fucking gorgeous, Xander, love you, love this, fuck, love your tight pretty sweet ass . . .” He continued to mutter a mix of endearments and curses, his jaw tightening as if he felt something at the base of his spine twitch and tense, as Xander’s eyes went wider and shinier and darker and . . . 

And when he opened his mouth Xander’s voice came out funny and high-pitched and garbled. He cried out incoherently as he brought his hips up as hard as he could, point and counterpoint to Spike’s hips snapping against him. Then, with a silent “Oh!”, Xander’s head tipped back and his cock swelled and twitched before shooting come in between them.

“Oh Christ,” Spike choked out. He went still for a second then bucked forward, shuddering and snarling through the spasms, finally collapsing to bury his face against Xander’s neck.

Xander murmured and shifted, bringing one palm against the smooth cheek nuzzling him. He opened his mouth to say something, but when Spike lifted his head, heavy-lidded blue eyes meeting Xander’s gaze intently, he smiled and moved to kiss him instead.


	27. All Together Now, Part 1

When the elevator opened, Willow hesitated. “Maybe I’ll just . . .”

“Come on,” Buffy said with only a trace of impatience. “It’s time for you to return to the land of the dinner partying. Staying inside a cinderblock dorm room is not going to make you feel any better. And besides, this is going to be harmless fun. Fun with food. It’s not as if Oz and . . . Nathan!” She proclaimed the name brightly when they both saw him standing next to Xander and Spike’s doorway.

“Hey,” Nathan said.

“Hey,” Willow replied nervously.

“Hi,” Buffy added with a nod before she turned to the doorbell and rang it with vigor.

“That doesn’t seem to work,” Nathan pointed out.

“It doesn’t?” Buffy asked. She frowned and pressed even harder. “I can hear it, though, so it’s not broken. I mean, at least it _wasn’t_ ,” she added in a plaintive voice as the pressure of her finger turned the doorbell’s buzz into a screeching noise and then halted it abruptly.

“I meant they don’t seem to be answering,” Nathan said. He addressed Buffy, but his eyes went to Willow.

“Maybe they had to run out for more hummus?” Buffy offered. 

“Or, uh, ice,” Nathan said, gesturing lamely.

“Oh, right, _ice_ ,” Willow said, tucking her hair behind her ears and nodding emphatically. “Because you need ice for drinks, especially when you have guests. I mean for their drinks, not just for yours, because that would be rude, hoarding the ice, and leaving everyone else standing around holding lukewarm beverages when that’s not really a welcoming thing, and what’s the purpose of having people over when. . .” She frowned at the still-closed door and then took a step back. “Hey, you know what? I’m going to go . . . wait for them in the lobby. In case they need help . . . with the ice. Because guests should be helpful.”

Nathan and Buffy watched her get back on the elevator and push the button repeatedly until the doors closed.

“I’m thinking that you all didn’t know I was coming tonight,” Nathan said. 

“You’d be right,” Buffy answered. 

“I wasn’t trying to stage some big confrontation,” Nathan said quickly.

“What did you think would happen when you saw her?” Buffy asked. “That you’d hang around the punch bowl and make small talk? Nathan, look -- if you wanted to see her, I don’t think some kind of dinner party was the best time and place.”

Nathan’s gaze drifted back to the closed elevator doors. “She wouldn’t return my calls, Buffy. I can’t get a hold of Oz either. And I don’t have the kind of in with the rest of you to ask what move I should make next. Besides, I thought Xander and Spike told her -- ”

“Hey, party people,” Xander said brightly. He stood in the now-open doorway, hair still shower-damp and shirt only partially mis-buttoned. “We, uh, with the . . . sleeping, and then there was a shower . . . I mean . . . that is . . .”

“I have cookies,” Buffy said, holding up a bag.

“Yes! Cookies,” Xander said, relieved by this introduction of a new topic. “Come on in.”

“Xander, you might want to, uh . . .” Nathan said, gesturing at the shirt.

“Oh! Right, right.” Xander hastily re-settled his clothing.

As Buffy set the cookies down, Spike sauntered out of the bedroom and nodded towards Nathan before grabbing Xander and kissing him thoroughly.

“Well then,” Buffy said brightly.

“Those chocolate?” Spike asked, eyeing the cookies.

“And hello to you too,” Buffy said with a small shake of the head. “Need any help with stuff?”

“I think it’s broken,” a voice said from the hall, and some rhythmic knocking ensued.

“Oz, Devon. Hey, and Giles!” Xander waved the newcomers in after opening the door. 

“Hey, Oz,” Nathan said with a small nod.

“Hey,” Oz said quietly.

Xander coughed. Buffy cleared her throat.

“How is it that I know you again?” Giles asked Devon in confusion, obviously continuing some conversation from out in the hall.

“Remember? I did that report on the thing. My senior year? And you totally helped me out.”

“Ah, yes,” Giles nodded vaguely. “The _thing_.”

“Hey, helped me pass the class. And I graduated a whole year ahead of Oz.”

“Yeah, that was something,” Oz said mildly.

When Xander moved over to the kitchen area, Buffy joined him quickly. “Where’s Will?” he asked as he moved a bowl of dip to make room for a tray of carrots. “She’s not running late, is she? Because the artichoke dip is her favorite, and it’s going to get all crusty and weird if it sits out too long.”

“She’s outside,” Buffy said in a low voice. “At least, she went outside, though if she ran into Oz in the lobby, she might have bailed already. Xander, what were you thinking, staging this whole reunion surprise without telling Willow?”

Xander froze, a pile of brightly colored paper napkins that he’d pulled from a drawer in his hand. “Um. I knew there was something I forgot to do.”

“Did Oz know?” Buffy asked as she waved a hand towards Oz and Nathan, standing across from one another but avoiding each other’s gaze. Devon was keeping the conversation going, genially talking about the Dingoes’ most recent gig to the other two, while behind them Giles peered at the contents of the apartment’s one bookshelf.

Xander’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, I . . .I think I told him, but--”

Another knock sounded at the door.

“Come on in then,” Spike said to Clem and a female-version of Clem as he let them in. “Cindy, you look smashing.”

“Now Spike, don’t go trying to steal my girl,” Clem said in a jovial voice. Cindy just giggled and held out a covered tray. “We made brownies,” Clem added with a vigorous nod at the offering. “Cindy said we shouldn’t add nuts in case people are allergic.”

“It turns out people are allergic to all kinds of things,” Cindy noted. “You’d think that they’d be a little heartier, what with them dominating the planet, but nope.”

“Right. Well. Get you a Mike’s Hard Lemonade?” Spike asked Clem.

“Aww, you remembered!” Clem said happily. 

“Uh, hi,” Willow said distractedly as she pushed in past the couple. She began to head over to Xander when she saw Oz. “Oh.”

“Hey Willow,” Xander said, his voice cracking slightly. 

Willow walked swiftly to the kitchen area. “Xander Harris, tell me you did not invite Oz and Nathan to this dinner party without letting me know first.”

“Uh . . . surprise!” Xander said weakly.

Willow’s cheeks reddened. “What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?”

“Okay, Will, okay,” Buffy murmured, moving slightly to block them from the others in the room as Willow’s voice increased in volume. 

“No, Buffy, it is not okay,” Willow said loudly. Giles looked up from his perusal of the bookshelf and took a step toward the brewing conflict, but was intercepted by Clem and Cindy as they introduced themselves. 

Moments later Xander and Buffy had pulled Willow into the bedroom so that they could speak privately. 

“I can’t believe that you invited them. I can’t believe that they _came_ ,” Willow said. She sat on the bed and covered her face with her hands. After a quick exchange of glances with Xander, Buffy closed the door and leaned against it.

“Hey, if they hadn’t come tonight, when else would you have spoken with them?” Xander asked. He sat next to her and put a gentle hand on her arm. “I know it’s tough, but the awkward with all of you is going to take a sharp left over to awful if you don’t connect with each other but quick. So even if you don’t like them here, maybe it’s still a good thing.”

“Maybe he’s right,” Buffy said softly.

“How can you take Xander’s side, Buffy?” Willow dropped her hands to her lap and looked at her tearfully. “There’s no good here! You know how upset I’ve been, how much this hurts me--”

“I’m not saying he made the best choice, not telling you about this before tonight,” Buffy said. She crossed to the bed and sat on Willow’s other side. “But he did it to help.” 

Xander reached over and squeezed Buffy’s shoulder gratefully.

Buffy patted Xander’s hand and continued on. “So just remember that. Don’t think about how he should have remembered to tell you instead of getting distracted with dip and Spike, or even how misguided and crazy it was to spring it on you this so soon after you all fought, or--”

Xander let go of Buffy with a pained expression. “Man, my side sucks,” he observed.

“I’m not on your side,” Buffy exclaimed. 

“But you’re sure not on mine if you think this is all fine and dandy,” Willow said. 

Buffy’s voice rose a little. “Willow, Xander and I don’t even have sides in a thing that’s between no one except you and Oz and Nathan. He just wants to see you happy, and that’s what I want too.”

Willow sniffled a little. “I’m still mad.”

Buffy and Xander exchanged glances. “Okay. I think we get that,” Buffy said softly.

“I am sorry for springing them on you like this, Willow,” Xander said. “I really meant to say something . . .”

“Yeah, I know. Even so. . . maybe I should leave,” Willow said. 

“No way,” Xander said. “Look -- if you want, I’ll tell them to take off. You stay no matter what. It’s not worth it to me to make tonight, or any time, unhappy for you. But if you think there’s a chance with them . . . Willow, I just don’t want you to miss it.”

Willow took a deep breath. When Buffy reached up to brush her hair away from her face, Willow leaned against her and sighed.

“Maybe there’s . . . I don’t know . . . half a chance.”

“Hey, half a chance is something,” Buffy answered with a small smile.

“Really?” Willow asked doubtfully.

“Sure,” Xander said. “It’s 50% better than zero, right?”

“Well, I did say _maybe_ half,” Willow said with a shrug. She moved a little closer to Xander, bumping his shoulder with hers. “So . . . that’s more like a third of a chance.”

“Quit messing with my head,” Xander said with a grin. “You know I missed that converting fractions day way back in fourth grade.”

When Willow stretched out her arms and hugged Xander, Buffy threw her arms around both of them as far as she could reach.

“Are you all coming back out anytime soon?” Spike asked impatiently from the doorway, his eyes fixed on the entangled trio on the bed.

“Hold your horses; we’re on our way,” Buffy’s muffled voice announced.

“Good,” Spike muttered, turning back to the main room and stalking off. “We’re running low on artichoke dip, and you know how that can lead to mayhem.”

 

**********

 

“Hey,” Willow said simply as she sat next to Oz on the couch. Devon got up from the furniture arm languidly like he’d planned to do that all along and wandered off to get a drink.

“Hey,” Oz answered, blinking a few more times than was strictly necessary. 

“You know, I wasn’t going to come over here. I was more going to stand over there and eat hummus and brownies.” She waved over at the counter where Cindy was writing down the brownie recipe for Buffy. “And, you know, pointedly not talk to you, but I guess that part’s kind of implied.”

“Glad you didn’t,” Oz answered. He touched her hand briefly, then pulled his own back. “Missed you.”

“Me too,” Willow said with a sigh. “This is all too weird.”

“Maybe it can be weird in a good way,” Oz said. 

“If I don’t get the urge to go hang out in the parking lot again, yeah,” Willow agreed.

“Yeah, that probably wouldn’t be positive oddness,” Oz nodded.

“So how do we do this?” Willow asked with a half smile.

He held out a tray of hors-d’oeuvres to her. “I find starting a conversation with an offer of a canapé often turns out well.”


	28. All Together Now, Part 2

Over at the small table where the drinks and glasses had been set up, Devon regarded Nathan and gestured towards the couch. “Maybe you should head over there.”

“I don’t think that’s such a hot idea,” Nathan answered. 

Devon leaned against the wall. “You’re cool with it, then? Everything being over?”

Nathan watched the Willow smile at something Oz said and swallowed. “No, I’m not. But it’s not like I have a choice, really. Yeah, I wanted to see them tonight, talk to Willow, ask Oz what he wants . . . but seeing them together now . . .” He drained his drink and set the cup down. “I shouldn’t have gotten in the way in the first place. They were good before I entered into it. If they can have a chance at fixing things, I should back off.” 

Devon peered in the same direction that Nathan was still looking. “So you think taking yourself out of the equation will help.”

Nathan shook his head slightly and gave Devon a rueful smile. “I suppose . . . well . . . yeah, I think so. I guess I really fucked things up.”

“Just you, huh?” Devon asked, sipping at his drink. “And you’re the one who’s going to fix it by staying away, all by yourself.”

“Yeah, I -- wait. What do you mean, by myself?” Nathan asked him.

“Just saying,” Devon shrugged. “It’s not like you were the only one in the mix.”

Nathan interrupted impatiently. “I know that, but _I’m_ the one who--”

Devon laughed slightly. “What’s with wanting to take it all on? It started because of you, it ended because of you -- you think that the parts that went well were all you too?”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Nathan said firmly, but his face showed his hesitation. 

Devon shook his head. “Man, you three are something else. Oz thinks you and Willow will get what he’s thinking even if he doesn’t tell you. You think you’re carrying the whole show, and you’re not even going to let them in on the secret. And Willow -- who knows what her deal is.”

“Hey, you guys need some snack-type stuff?” Xander clapped a hand on each of the other men’s shoulders and smiled encouragingly.

“Nah, we’re good,” Devon said. “So you and Spike, huh?”

“Yeah,” Xander said, automatically glancing over to Spike, who was standing, back against the wall, eyes intently trained on him. “Me and Spike.” He drifted off towards the vampire in question.

“Man,” Devon said with a shake of his head. “Those dudes have got it bad.”

 

**********

 

“So we are moving on to the actual dinner portion of this dinner party at some point, right?” Buffy asked Xander, poking him in the arm.

“Ow. And, oh, right,” Xander answered absently, moving away from Spike nuzzling his neck. “The baked cheesy pasta thingy.”

“Am I the only one who’s curious if the baked cheesy pasta thingy is completely burnt by now?” Buffy wondered aloud.

“No worries,” Clem said grandly, sweeping his hand towards the counter. “Took it out half an hour ago myself when it was all bubbly and stuff.”

“Need some help?” Nathan asked Xander, who was staring at the glass casserole dish that was already on the counter with a puzzled look on his face. 

“Plates?” Xander suggested, pointing in the appropriate direction.

In the larger part of the room, Giles was having an animated conversation with Cindy about her knowledge of various demon languages while Clem watched her with a proud expression on his face. Buffy and Devon both edged towards the counter, forming a subtle line for dinner portions. And Nathan suddenly found himself standing in front of Willow and Oz.

“So,” Nathan said softly.

“So,” Willow echoed. Her eyes went a little wide, and the corners of her mouth quirked up slightly in an almost-smile.

Oz merely nodded. Then for a moment or so they all just looked at one another awkwardly.

“Three strings walk into a bar,” Nathan began, a vague look of panic on his face.

“Oh! I know that one!” Willow said excitedly, losing her expression of wariness. “That’s a cute joke. Frayed not!”

“Good clean humor for the kids, yet having a bar element so that the adults can relate,” Oz noted.

“Okay,” Nathan said with a slight grin. “So maybe opening with a joke wasn’t the best idea.”

“Better than opening with more rounds of focused staring,” Willow said out of the side of her mouth. “What?” she asked when both of them looked at her. “Like we weren’t all thinking that!” 

“Not sure if there is any good way to start off,” Oz said with a shrug. “Maybe we just have to . . . start.” He touched Willow’s arm briefly and then reached out to brush his hand against Nathan’s shoulder. Each of them shifted imperceptibly closer, closing the circle that they made slightly.

“You know, I just really like you,” Nathan said suddenly. “I mean, both of you, and I don’t want what we were doing to end. But I don’t want to push if that’s not what either of you wants, or if it might hurt one of you . . . or both of you.”

“Or you,” Willow put in generously. “There’s no need for there to be hurting of you, right?”

“Well, yeah, ideally,” Nathan said with a nod. He motioned the two of them towards the bedroom, away from Cindy and Clem who were now nearby, politely exclaiming over the casserole and looking anxious about being within eavesdropping distance.

“Okay,” Oz said as he partially closed the door behind them.

Willow sat down on the edge of the bed, but then jumped up suddenly. “Oh! This wasn’t supposed to be _that_ kind of bedroom talk.” When the other two smiled at her, she took a deep breath and went on. “See, the thing of it is, Nathan, we really like you, and --” She stopped and turned to Oz. “That’s okay, right, saying ‘we’ . . . with me and you and the liking?” 

“Think it’s safe to say ‘we’,” Oz said agreeably to her. He shifted slightly to face Nathan. “Because, yeah, it’s both of us that like you. And because no matter how this shakes down, Willow and I are a package deal.”

“I want that,” Nathan said. “I want the package -- both of you -- and I want so badly for it to work out this time.”

“I think we could get it now, maybe,” Willow said quietly. “If we had more talking, and not so many avoidy impulses. And, oh, like maybe we could have a schedule . . . ” Oz raised his eyebrows at that, and she continued hastily. “Or, you know, not, if that’s too planned -- but if we could sort of tell each other who’s seeing who when?” 

“And where,” Nathan added.

“And _why_ ,” Spike said from his position leaning against the frame of the now-open doorway.

“Bell! Neck! You!” Willow exclaimed.

“Oh, like a collar, yeah?” Spike smiled with open lips, touching the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Didn’t know you had it in you, pet.”

“No, no, to stop you from the creeping into rooms,” Willow said defensively. “This is a private conversation -- ”

“Which you’re having in my bedroom,” Spike pointed out.

“Who’s having what in our bedroom?” Xander inquired as he poked his head around the doorway.

“Just talking,” Oz said. “Not, you know, doing actual bedroom type things.” He sniffed a few times, raised his eyebrows, gave Xander a significant look, and then looked away discreetly.

Xander turned beet-red. “Oh my god. I can’t believe that I have friends who can smell when Spike and I have had sex. And, okay, I really did not mean to say any of that out loud.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Spike scoffed. “What did you think they supposed we were doing, just braiding each other’s hair and having tea parties in here?”

“I know, but Oz can probably tell that we had sex today, right before everyone came over,” Xander said loudly. Then he dropped his face into his hands and moaned. “Oh god. Why am I still talking?”

Spike drew him into his arms and looked indignantly at Oz, Willow, and Nathan. “Not enough that the three of you have to be ridiculously unreasonable about one small tiff and let your whole relationship go to hell. But you have to come in here and upset Xander too?”

“We didn’t get unreasonable about a tiff,” Willow said hotly. “This was . . . important, and we had to . . . and . . .” She trailed off in a far more uncertain voice than she’d had when she started.

“Well, there was weirdness,” Oz put in.

“See?” Willow nodded firmly at Spike.

“And I didn’t handle things well by just backing off, I think,” Nathan added. “We should have talked more, and maybe we should have been more open, and -- wait a second.”

“What?” Xander said, seemingly relieved to have a change in the topic.

Nathan frowned and put both palms out flat against the air in front of him. “Wait. Why would you say that Oz can smell that you had sex right before we all came over? I mean, sex smell, sure, but that seems pretty damn specialized on the olfactory front.”

“Oh, you know,” Xander said, waving a hand in the air. “On account of Oz being a werewolf -- the heightened sense of smell thing.”

“Oz is a what now?” Nathan asked in confusion.

“Uh oh,” Xander said.

“We talked about that. We must have,” Willow said with a nervous laugh, but she turned towards Oz with a question clear on her face.

“That might not have been covered, actually,” Oz said slowly.

Spike snorted. “Right. And _maybe_ you should have been more open. Something of an important thing, that detail.”

“But we talked about me being a witch,” Willow told Spike indignantly. “So open stuff was exchanged.”

“Hard to avoid that particular topic, wouldn’t you say?” Spike asked with raised eyebrows. “The way you play with the mojo?”

“Werewolves _exist_?” Nathan asked Xander.

“Well, you knew that vampires existed,” Xander said in an accusatory tone, apparently trying to distract everyone from the fact that he’d been the one to bring up another contentious topic. 

“Werewolves. Huh,” Nathan said, shaking his head. “You’d think they would have mentioned some of this stuff in the college guide, even in a kind of veiled way.”

“I think you’ll find that under _Security and Campus Safety_ ,” Xander pointed out helpfully. “The part about using the buddy system for late night walks.”

“But only three nights a month, would the werewolf warnings be needed,” Willow pointed out loyally, and Oz smiled.

“Yeah, and we’ve got the situation more than covered on those nights,” Oz said.

“Very modern cages with all the amenities and a tranquilizer gun at the ready,” Xander added.

Nathan looked back and forth between Willow and Nathan and then grinned. “Wow. I have a witch for a girlfriend and a werewolf for a boyfriend? I’m so freaking cool.”

“That’s the spirit,” Xander said in an encouraging voice. “Keep focused on the positive.”

“Positive, like, say, dinner being ready?” Buffy asked from the doorway plaintively. “We were going to eat, but then you guys disappeared, and Cindy said we should wait for everyone before we started . . . so can you come back out there, right now?”

“In any case, I rather doubt that room was intended to hold so many people,” Giles said from behind her, peering into the bedroom at the cluster of occupants. Spike rolled his eyes and slipped past him out the doorway. Buffy followed on his heels, presumably to get back on line for the baked cheesy pasta thingy. 

Xander cast one look back at the rumpled bed and sighed before he grinned at Oz. “So. The three of you ready?” 

“Yeah,” Oz answered in a mild voice, smiling at Nathan and Willow. “We’re ready.”


	29. Done With Waiting

“I’d say that was the most successful dinner party ever,” Xander announced as he swabbed at the counter with a sponge.

“Yeah. Well. Except no one actually brought any wine,” Spike grumbled. “Like you said they _would_.”

“Even Giles?” Xander asked. His sponge hovered in mid-air. “You know, you think he would bring wine. He’s just that type of guy. But hey, we got those three crazy kids talking again.” Xander grinned at Spike and then moved towards the sink. He frowned at the glass pan now encrusted with baked-on cheese and stuck curls of dried-out pasta.

“Leave that for later, love,” Spike murmured, pulling Xander away from the sink and into a soft kiss. “You did your good deed for the day, yeah? Can let the mess wait till morning.”

“Ooh, special dispensation from dishes-doing,” Xander said, happily letting the baking container clatter to the bottom of the sink. He dropped the sponge and wiped his hands off on one of the new dishtowels that Willow had given them. “I’ll have to help people out with relationships more often.

Spike rolled his eyes and joined Xander near the counter. “Well, you’ve taken care of Red and her boys. I don’t see who’s left.”

Xander reached across him for the last cookie still sitting on the plate and chewed it thoughtfully.

“No,” said Spike quickly. “No, absolutely not.”

“But you don’t even know what I was going to say,” Xander protested.

“If her name begins with a ‘B’ and ends in a ‘y’, I say you’ve a hopeless case on your hands,” Spike said.

“Oh, come on,” Xander said indignantly. “Buffy’s great. And she deserves romance just as much as the next Scooby.” He eyed Spike, who failed to appear contrite as he tapped out a cigarette and lit it.

Xander leaned against the counter, a speculative look in his eyes. “You know, I don’t think Devon is seeing anyone right now . . .”

“That one?” Spike scoffed. “What on earth do those two have in common?”

“Well, we know that they both like to eat,” Xander said, gesturing at the empty Pyrex dish. “I mean, and how.”

Spike took the last bit of cookie out of Xander’s hand and popped it into his mouth. “Well. Don’t know if that’s enough. Least, not when he seems to prefer the older, tweed-ier type.”

Xander stopped and choked on nothing at all. “Oh my god. _Giles_? You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, there was plenty of interest and chatting up going on in that corner,” Spike said with his eyebrow arched high. 

Xander stared at him then laughed. “No. No way. You’re just trying to freak me out. Devon is . . . sex-god boy, and Giles --”

“Needs to get his end off and quick,” Spike interrupted him. 

“No, no,” Xander said, shutting his eyes tight and waving his hands out in front of him. “Bad thoughts about Giles and his end.”

“Oh, well, we don’t want to be thinking about _his_ end, no,” Spike agreed, pulling Xander towards him. “Why don’t you let me help you forget about that?”

“Oh, the _very_ tangible bonuses of dispensation from doing the dishes,” Xander said in a low voice just before Spike’s lips brushed against his. “But you think it’ll work out,” he added, as Spike nudged him in the direction of a more comfortable surface than the counter.

“What will?” Spike asked absently as he slid his fingertips under Xander’s t-shirt.

“You know . . . with Willow and Oz and Nathan. The three of them getting back together.”

Spike snorted. “Wouldn’t bother to worry about those three. Probably make each other wait to shag for no good reason, but yeah, they’ll be billing and cooing soon enough.”

 

**********

 

“So it’s good that we waited,” Willow said as the three of them entered Nathan’s apartment three nights after the dinner party.

“Yeah, that was most definitely a good idea,” Nathan agreed as he slipped off his jacket. “Waiting.”

“Good,” Oz echoed. He gave them both a brief nod.

“I mean, that night, right after Spike and Xander’s party would have been way too soon,” Nathan affirmed after a beat.

“Lots of cloudy thinking.” Willow tapped her finger against her head. “What with the time apart. And the urge to . . . get all groin-y.”

“Though not itself a bad urge,” Oz remarked.

“No, of course not,” Willow exclaimed. “Natural even. Because urges are . . . urged for reasons.”

“Sometimes urgent ones,” Oz added.

There was a long, tense pause.

“Hey,” Nathan said in a strained voice. “Does anyone else think that we should just go into the bedroom and fuck?”

“Absolutely,” Oz said, already starting in that direction.

“Best idea I’ve heard all night.” Willow quickly began to ease off her cardigan while following them both.

They picked up the pace as they moved down the hallway, until they were fairly running into Nathan’s bedroom, pulling off t-shirts, kicking off shoes, and struggling with buttons and zippers in a rush to get down to bare skin. 

“We should . . . should we talk about this, or . . .?” Nathan managed as Willow caught the lobe of his ear in her teeth. “Oh god,” he croaked out.

“Talking is good, but later,” Willow said as she shimmied out of her skirt and then stepped out of her panties. She had already discarded her top and bra. Oz didn’t bother to say anything at all; he just wrapped his arms around Willow’s torso from behind, hands lifted to cup and caress her breasts.

Nathan stumbled, trying to shake off his jeans as he watched them together, and then pull off his socks after temporarily being disconcerted by the awkward sensation of sporting gym socks and nothing else. He stepped back in front of Willow, stooping down to kiss her breasts, and then kiss Oz’s hands still stroking them. When he straightened, Oz pulled him forward so that their lips met with force. Willow gasped as she was quickly pressed between them, Nathan’s erection rubbing against her, Oz’s hard cock sliding along the crevice of her ass. Oz’s fingertips teased and flicked over one nipple while Nathan’s hand covered her other breast, stroking and rubbing until Willow whimpered. 

They continued to kiss, a circuit of kisses, really: Oz and Nathan biting and sucking at each other’s lips; Nathan moving his head to catch Willow’s parted lips and thrust his tongue between them; Oz dragging his teeth against the nape of Willow’s neck. When she turned her head to let out a shaky breath, he caught her mouth with his while he rubbed his hand in small circles against Nathan’s back and shoulders. 

Suddenly Nathan pitched forward a little too fast, Willow stumbled back, and Oz caught them both. For a moment they stopped entirely, but then, laughing, moved towards the bed. 

“Seems a shame not to take advantage of the actual bed.” Willow grinned as she pushed back further onto the mattress.

“Well, the comfort factor is a definite plus,” Oz said seriously as he joined her. They regarded one another for a moment, Oz stroking her arm with his hand. Then he brushed his fingertips up her arm, over her torso, and down between her legs.

“Of everything I ever got, right now the bed seems like the best purchase ever,” Nathan said faintly as he watched them. After Willow bit her lip and let out a soft sigh, Nathan eased on to the bed with them, moving down Oz’s body until his head was close enough that he could bring his head low to lick around the rim of Oz’s erection.

All talking stopped, until there were only the sounds of Oz murmuring encouragement alternatively to Willow and Nathan -- to Willow as she cried out and moved against his hand, to Nathan as he moaned around Oz’s cock and stroked his own with deliberately glancing touches.

A moment of awkward shifting, and embarrassed grins, before Oz slid down to the foot of the bed and in between Willow’s legs while Nathan moved up to Willow’s side, kissing her intently. When Oz lowered his head, humming to himself as he began to flick the tip of his tongue against her inner thighs and then her pussy, Nathan swallowed her gasp in a hard kiss. 

Willow reached out to wrap her hand out Nathan’s hard-on, pulling with tight fast strokes, though her pace occasionally faltered when Oz got especially creative with his tongue. When her soft noises became louder, Nathan slipped away, making it easier for her to lift her hips and wrap her legs around Oz, grinding herself against his tongue and lips. 

Nathan moved off of the bed entirely, dropping to the floor so that he could lick at the small of Oz’s back and bite at the joining of thighs and buttocks, massaging the red marks he left behind with his fingertips and tongue.

Their breathing echoed around the small room, harsh panting occasionally giving way to grunts and soft cries. The air seemed humid, the pace reaching a kind of fevered pitch when Willow held her breasts and tweaked her nipples, crying out up a scale of higher notes as her orgasm made her twist and tremble. 

Oz worked his way back up the bed as Willow lay there panting, reaching behind him to pull Nathan along until they were all stretched out fully along the length of the bed.

Nathan hovered over Oz to reach Willow, kissing her until they were both breathless. When he shifted his weight back, Oz pulled him closer until he was lying on his side facing Oz, running fingers through Nathan’s hair while Nathan licked and bit along Oz’s neck. 

After a few moments, Oz turned on his side towards Nathan, moving his hand to skim along the bumps of Nathan’s spine, further down to caress the soft skin just above the cleft, lower still to stroke between his cheeks. Nathan cried out into Oz’s mouth and thrust his hips against him as Oz slipped his fingertips inside the crevice with a teasing touch. 

Nathan whispered, “Do you want me to . . . or do you want to . . .”

Oz ran his tongue along the shell of Nathan’s ear and then said in a low voice, “Want to fuck you.”

“Right on,” Nathan said quickly, and on the other side of the bed Willow wriggled her back against the mattress, grinning with her eyes still closed.

“That’s it,” Oz said in a soft voice when Nathan turned over onto his other side, his back now to Oz. “Hey, do we have . . . thanks,” he smiled at Willow when she groped over at the night table and came up with a bottle of lube to hand him. “Hold still,” Oz said to Nathan mildly when Nathan began to edge back against his touch even though Oz’s lubricant-slick finger was only tracing along the skin.

Willow laughed behind him. “So not fair, telling him to hold still, when . . .” she trailed a finger down the crease of Oz’s ass, stroking up and down until he pushed back, trying to direct her touch. “See?” she asked triumphantly. “Hold still,” she scoffed while she eased a finger into Oz up to the first knuckle. He made a choked sound and then thrust back.

“What?” Nathan asked in a muzzy voice. “Hold . . . what?” The sounds Oz and Willow made behind him blurred into a murmur, soothing and sensuous all at once. Two of Oz’s fingers were inside him now, sliding and stroking, and Oz’s other hand stretched over his hip to scratch at his belly, fondle his balls, and then finally start a slow but steady stroke on his cock.

“No worries,” Willow said cheerfully as she pressed her breasts against Oz’s back and eased her finger in further. Oz swallowed hard as he worked his fingers deeper into Nathan in response, Willow’s motions harmonizing with and speeding his own. 

“Oh . . . fuck, yeah,” Nathan cried out suddenly. 

Willow shifted back for a second and then wordlessly dropped a foil-wrapped condom where Oz could reach it. With shaking hands, he ripped off the packaging, groaning when Willow moved her hand to help slide the latex down over his erection. 

Oz slid his mouth against Nathan’s neck, teeth grazing the skin as he aligned his cock. Two or three preliminary movements, and then he eased himself partly inside of Nathan, taking a sharp quick breath when he stopped for a moment.

As before the only sounds for a moment were syncopated bursts of breath, shaping the air around them. Then Willow sighed, a noise that sounded almost like a croon, and when she moved two fingers into Oz, he grunted and slid further still inside of Nathan. 

“Damn,” Nathan hissed. He moved his top leg up, and Oz’s hand was there to support him, pushing his leg forward gently and holding it. As their alignment changed, Oz’s ragged breath seemed to ripple along Nathan’s back in a shiver.

“So good,” Nathan panted out. “You’re . . . so fucking good.”

“Just like that, yeah,” Oz gasped back, to Willow sucking at the skin of his neck and creating a counter-rhythm with her fingers, to Nathan tightening around him and starting a round of quiet, needy cries as he jerked his hips back in an attempt to make Oz’s strokes harder, faster. 

Oz braced himself by grasping Nathan’s hips, turning him forward with the force of his movements. He rose slightly to accommodate the new angle, and behind him, Willow shifted so that she could see her fingers thrusting inside of Oz while watching Oz’s cock slide in and out of Nathan. “Wow,” she said softly as Nathan gave a half sob and moved against the friction of both the mattress and the tight hold of his own fist. 

When Oz started a volley of quicker thrusts, and Willow suddenly withdrew her fingers, scrambling off of the foot of the bed. She quickly repositioned herself on her knees at the side of the mattress so that she could take Nathan’s cock into her mouth. As his taste burst onto her tongue, she moaned, swallowing when Nathan thrust helplessly between her lips. 

Oz leaned back again, shifting himself and Nathan to give Willow better access. His thrusts grew erratic as he caught glimpses of Willow, her eyelashes fluttering on her cheeks while she sucked Nathan harder and kept a steady rhythm with her hand wrapped around the base of his cock. 

Nathan twined his fingers through Willow’s hair, trying to keep his eyes open so he could watch her. But when he glanced down at her just as she looked up at him with her eyes half closed and her lips red and swollen, he bucked forward, shuddering as the pulses of come shot forward. He groaned as the spasms wound through his body, and cried out one last time when he felt Willow whimper while she swallowed around him. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah,” Oz bit out as he groaned, twisting his hips in a last series of thrusts until he came.

They were all still for a moment. Oz pressed a kiss to the nape of Nathan’s neck and then pulled out, knotting the condom and tossing it into the trash. Willow pulled her mouth away, licking at a stray droplet of come from her lips.

“C’mon back,” Nathan said to Oz sleepily. “And hey, come up here,” he told Willow, reaching out a hand to draw her back onto the bed with them. 

They settled down with kisses and a few murmurings, sliding over and rearranging until Nathan lay on his back, his leg over Willow’s while her fingers skimmed along his thigh, Oz curled towards him, quickly falling asleep with his hand resting on Nathan’s chest.


	30. Logistics and Locations

“But it’s going well, being back together, all three of you,” Buffy said warily. She motioned to Willow so they could change their path as they wove through the rows of tombstones and monuments in the cemetery. 

“It’s going great,” Willow exclaimed. “The part with me and Nathan, the part with Oz and Nathan, the part with -- well, the part with all of us together. All the parts.”

Buffy nodded thoughtfully. Then she turned her head sharply in the direction of a sudden movement. “Leaf,” she said to Willow cheerfully as she turned back. “Well, all the parts. That’s really great, Will.”

“It _really_ is,” Willow confirmed.

They walked along for a few seconds, passing a few of the more familiar crypts in silence.

“But --” Buffy said delicately.

“But I guess I wonder -- when do we get to relax,” Willow answered with a sigh. “We’re getting along well, definitely; there’s much fun with spells and concerts and dinners and movies and lots and lots of good sex.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Buffy replied. “Well, except not on the sex front. Don’t get me wrong -- good sex is good! -- but I prefer to know that abstractly instead of, um . . .”

“You don’t want the naughty details,” Willow said with a gleam in her eye.

Buffy rolled her eyes, but grinned. “Exactly.”

They walked a little further.

“So everything is pretty darn wonderful. Except -- well, what?” Buffy prodded. 

“Oh, you know. After the break up?”

“Which would be now.”

“Right, I get that it’s now, but when is it then?” asked Willow.

Buffy’s forehead crinkled. “Say that again, slower. And maybe using more words.”

“When is it after _after_ the break up? The next part? When do we all get off probation from that? If it’s good, when does it get to be good enough that we can relax and say, hey, successful relationship thing here! No worries about us!”

“I don’t know,” Buffy said sympathetically. “I don’t think anyone hands you a sheet of paper with an approval stamp on it.” She shrugged. “Maybe you just get that when you trust that it’s going to keep on going well.”

Willow kicked at a clump of earth as they continued to walk. “Yeah. See, and I know all that too.”

Buffy smiled. “I bet having a relationship with two other people makes you twice as knowing.”

“Sure, in some ways,” Willow said, and the sparkle came back to her eyes.

“You know, I always suspected that you were the kinkiest one out of all of us,” Buffy said. “All those cute little jumpers, and that long hair back in high school -- you weren’t fooling _anyone_.”

They giggled together, and turned to complete their loop of the cemetery.

 

**********

 

At the other end of the cemetery, Xander was asking Nathan question after question as they patrolled.

“And oh! How do you all decide where you’ll sleep in the bed?” Xander asked Nathan.

Nathan scratched his head as they rounded a cluster of graves and considered. “Well. I guess sometimes we don’t have to decide. Like if one or two people have to go home to their own place. Early exam, or if Willow’s meeting the alterna-Wicca group she started for sunrise celebration, or if Oz . . .” He paused, then smiled. “No, Oz never has to be anywhere early.”

“Right,” Xander said, clearly preoccupied. “See, but that can’t happen all the time, that someone has to leave. And with us, it’s like -- I have a side. And Spike has his side, and that’s how we do it. And all I’m asking about is does it work out like that, except with one person in the middle when you sleep? Or do you switch off? Or, oh! Do you call ‘hey, right side!’ just when you’re all watching television, before you’re even getting ready to go to sleep, and the other two say ‘hey, no fair calling a side!’ ” 

Nathan glanced at Xander and then gave him a half smile. “Xander if you’re asking about sex positions and how we get off in a really veiled way --”

“No, no,” Xander protested. “Heaven forefend! This is _all_ about the sides.” He sneaked a quick glance at Nathan as they walked. “Of course, if you feel _moved_ to tell me about who’s in the middle sex wise, and when, and how, you know that I’d be your listening ear.”

“No doubt,” Nathan said with a grin. “That’s pretty decent of you, man.”

Xander returned the smile and then shrugged. “Just seems like . . . twice the details to take care of with two people. Complicated.”

“It can be sometimes,” Nathan admitted. They saw a flash of red hair, signaling that Willow and Buffy were headed their way, and Nathan’s expression softened. “But it’s definitely worth it.”

 

**********

 

Oz and Spike completed their section of the cemetery in near silence. 

“So,” Spike said finally. “You figure that you lot shag like weasels a lot more now? Or more before you had the time off?”

Oz slowed his steps, and then stopped. Spike came to a halt beside him, automatically reaching for a cigarette as he waited. 

“You know, probably about even,” Oz answered finally.

“Right.”

They continued on.

 

**********

 

Finally Spike and Oz came upon the others, who had met up by one of the larger crypts and were now chattering happily. 

“Keep talking like that, you could raise the dead,” Spike crooned to Xander in a low voice as he slipped his arm around his waist.

“Kind of the point,” Buffy said sarcastically, and then blushed as Spike turned to her with amusement clear on his face. “Oh, I _so_ did not mean it like that! I meant, you know -- carefree conversations late at night often bring vamps out to play.”

“Well, it worked,” Nathan said frantically just as Willow yelled “Buffy! Behind you!”

A snarling, just-out-of-his-grave vampire launched himself at Buffy, and for a few moments there was a flurry of kicks and outbursts before a haze of dust settled onto the ground.

“All right then,” Xander said, rubbing his hands together. “Now that there’s been actual slay-age, looks like we can all pack it up for the night.”

“That was lame,” Buffy announced with a frown as she pocketed her stake. “I barely broke a sweat. Honestly, I don’t even know why those just-turned vampires even bother to rise.”

“You’d think they’d learn,” Willow said, making a tsk-ing noise.

“So are we headed back to my place?” Oz asked Willow and Nathan. “Haven’t picked the place up much, but . . . I guess I usually don’t.”

“We could go to my apartment,” Nathan offered. “It’s pretty clean. Plus, I’ve got stuff to make pancakes for breakfast.”

“Oh, pancakes,” Oz said with widened eyes.

“I’ll bet you woo all the boys with offers of pancakes,” Xander told Nathan.

“Well, actually yeah,” Nathan acknowledged as Oz grinned.

“Your place it is then,” Willow said. “As long as there’s syrup and jam --”

“Because not everyone likes syrup,” Oz pointed out supportively.

“Exactly,” Willow agreed. “But oh! Except that I promised Giles that I’d bring over a spell book that I borrowed. I was going to take it over first thing tomorrow morning, and I left it in my room. And campus is much closer to Giles’ than Nathan’s place is, so maybe we should go back to the dorms.”

“Can I just say right now, despite my very enthusiastic part as supportive gal, that our dorm room is not one of the options?” Buffy asked nervously.

Spike snorted.

“Bed’s too small anyway,” Oz pointed out graciously.

“You see?” Xander said to Nathan, poking him in the ribs with his elbow. “ _Sides_.”

Spike looked towards Xander, perplexed for a moment, but then nodded in agreement, prompting Xander to lean in and kiss his neck when no one else seemed to be paying attention. 

“Well, that solves that problem,” Buffy said. “Let’s go home.” She squared her shoulders and took a step towards the cemetery gates.

“Except that we still haven’t figured out where the three of us are going,” Willow reminded her.

“And right there -- there’s the whole problem with the way you’re going about _all_ of this,” Spike said to Willow, Nathan, and Oz generally. “But seeing as Xander and I don’t have the problem of not knowing what bed the two of us will be --”

“Spike!” Xander yelped.

“What bed the two of us will be _sleeping_ in tonight,” Spike continued in an aggrieved tone, “we’ll just be off then and leave you to your very boring discussion.” He turned away, but stopped short when Willow materialized in front of him.

“No,” Willow said irritably, crossing her arms across her chest. Nathan and Oz just looked at one another and shrugged. “No, if you’re such a smart vampire, and know _exactly_ how we should be going about this, then let’s have it. Lay it on me, mister. What’s wrong with the way that the three of us are handling things?”

Spike gave a bark of laughter and dropped his filter to the ground, mashing it with the heel of his boot. “Well. It’s all right there in the definition, isn’t it?”

“What definition?” Oz ventured to ask.

“Ménage a trois,” Spike said distinctly.

“Wow,” Xander said, eyes wide.

“Nothing like a sexy French accent,” Nathan murmured. 

Spike forged ahead. “Did you lot think it only meant naughty types of shagging? Exciting new combinations of having a go?”

“You know, ménage a trois was the only French phrase I ever really learned. And that’s definitely what I thought it meant,” Xander observed. “But oh . . . wait . . . didn’t I know more French stuff?” He stuffed his hands into his pockets when everyone turned to look at him expectantly. “Uh, nope. I guess that was it.”

“Well, means that, sure,” Spike said. “But that isn’t the end of it.”

“Then what --” Buffy started to say.

Xander snapped his fingers. “Voulez-vouz couchez avec moi, ce-soir?” he burst out.

“Huh?” Buffy asked him.

“That’s the other French thing I know,” Xander explained.

Spike pulled out a new cigarette out and lit it. “Not just about where you’re going to be about tonight or the next night anymore. Or which of you three makes it into the bed if all of your other plans work in favor.” He shook his head, then drew on the cigarette and exhaled. “If you’re going to do this thing, then do it properly.”

“Household!” Buffy said. “Oh, look, I remembered a French thing too.” She elbowed Xander in the ribs.

“Ow. And that makes way less sense than mine,” Xander told her. “I mean, yours isn’t even about sex.”

“No, no -- because it _is_ about more than sex!” Buffy disagreed. “The whole ménage a trois thing -- ménage means household, or something like that. Where you live. So not just about the complicated sexy stuff with three people, but --”

“Three people in the same place,” Oz finished for her.

“Moving in together,” Nathan added in surprise.

“We can’t move in with each other,” Willow exclaimed. “We were just getting past the break up thing!”

“Which you said was going well, the getting-past-it part,” Buffy reminded her. “As in maybe this is a sign that you’re in the clear.”

“But all three of us living in the same place -- that’s serious stuff,” Willow protested.

“Part of the whole reason we broke up in the first place, though,” Nathan said slowly. “Figuring out when and where we were going to see each other. The confusion about when we were all getting together. And worrying about being left out, or leaving someone else out. Which of us was seeing who when.”

“The last sentence alone hurts my head,” Xander confided to Spike.

“And for now, it’s half of what we talk about,” Oz noted. “Would definitely free up some serious time and energy if we were pretty much all in the same place.”

“I think we -- Oz and Nathan and I -- need to go,” Willow said after a pause. “Not that we don’t care what all of you think, but . . . this is too important to come up like this, in a group-decision way. So --”

“Hey!” Xander interrupted. “All of you got together and decided that Spike shouldn’t live with me that time.”

“Yeah!” Spike interjected suddenly, as though he had forgotten about that part. “If you people hadn’t poked around where you weren’t welcome --”

“The two of you can’t still be upset about that,” Buffy said. “It all worked out for the best! You grew when you were apart.” At their looks of disbelief, she muttered, “I definitely seem to remember growing taking place.”

“Buffy’s right,” Willow said. “If you and Spike hadn’t gone through all of that stuff with living in separate places, the situation with Davy, and having to think about what you really wanted, you might not have worked things out. Or, you might not even have gotten together in the first place.” 

“Fine,” Xander snapped. “Everyone agreed, and it all worked out. So now I’m cashing in my group-decision chip. If you got to butt into my life, I say we get to vote on whether or not you all should move in together.”

“That is so not a good idea,” Buffy said. “We can’t make them follow what we think they should do.”

“Tallying votes now, Buff,” Xander said.

“Then put me down for yes to the moving-in thing,” Buffy said quickly. 

“Got it,” Xander said briskly. “Spike?”

“Already in the pro-camp, love.”

“And I, for one, was persuaded by your clever argument. Not to mention that French stuff,” Xander said with a grin. “So that’s two more votes in favor.”

Nathan raised his hand.

“Questions?” Xander asked, clasping his hands together with the air of someone running a press conference.

“No. I mean, yes. I’m just voting yes,” Nathan clarified.

Oz laughed, but then sobered quickly. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“Well, yeah. I wouldn’t joke about that,” Nathan said. “We’ve been trying this out for a while, and I think the three of us are really good together.” He watched Oz, gnawing at his lower lip a little when Oz didn’t respond right away. “So. Um. Does that mean that you don’t . . .”

“No, no. I do,” Oz corrected him. 

“Oh. Cool,” Nathan said simply. They grinned at one another, then shifted their attention to Willow.

“Uh, Willow?” Buffy asked.

Willow sighed and unfolded her arms. “If I say that I’ll think about this, I want it on record that I am _not_ agreeing to consider it because of the overwhelming support in the vote.”

“Duly noted,” Xander called out. Spike just grunted, but then it seemed like he was no longer paying strict attention, especially given the way that his duster was now wrapped around him and Xander both.

“But you’d say yes anyway,” Oz said. “At least, to giving the idea an outside chance.”

“I . . . I think so,” Willow said. “What Nathan said before -- this works, what we have, and maybe it’s time to take it to the next level. But there should be talks! And discussions.”

“Well, when you decide to do it, you could all just move into Nathan’s place,” Xander said.

“Oh -- well, it’d be kind of small for the three of us,” Nathan said. “It’s even kind of small for just me.” He took a quick look at Willow. “And we haven’t decided for sure yet.” 

“That’s right,” Willow said distractedly. 

“Oh, I know -- you could get a suite on campus since you’re all students,” Buffy suggested. 

“With three single rooms?” Willow asked, wrinkling her nose at the prospect. “I don’t know. If we’re going to do advanced relationship stuff, I think it’d be easier if we had our own place. _If_ we get our own place, that is.”

“Always places up for rent in Devon’s neighborhood,” Oz put in. “As long as we’re working in hypothetical scenarios. Actually, there’s hypothetically a place two houses down the street from him with a great basement space.”

Willow and Nathan exchanged a look. “Near Devon,” Nathan began. “Yeah, that’d be cool, and the guys in the band are all great, but . . .”

“But it would be a big enough deal with the three of us moving in together without moving in with you, Devon, and your rhythm section,” Willow finished. 

“The key issue of proximity,” Buffy said. “You might want not to be in walking distance.”

“Not to mention the critical guarding of refrigerator contents,” Willow said.

“Wait, why would being in walking distance from the band be a bad thing?” Oz asked.

Nathan and Willow both started to speak at the same time.

“You know, you get to work out this part of the details yourselves,” Buffy said, checking her watch. “I’ve got a pile of notes for my English lit paper calling my name.”

“Yeah, and we have to go, because . . .” Xander’s sentence faded away as Spike yanked him off towards the direction of their apartment.

“What about the warehouse district?” Nathan could be heard asking as the others walked away. 

“Are you kidding? If we do decide to move in together, that’s the last place we should look. That area practically screams Vampire Central,” Willow’s voice replied.

“Which, strange, because those old warehouses let in a lot of light, and you’d think . . .” Oz’s voice floated away on the wind as they everyone else headed off in their own directions.


	31. Some of That Flaunting

"Wow, that's . . . wow," Buffy said, as she entered the room. 

"It's just a bed," Willow pointed out. She reached over and smoothed the comforter that she had just spread out over it and tugged out of the pillows further into place.

"That's not a bed," Buffy said seriously. "In the pleasure boating industry of sleep and sex surfaces, that's a deluxe cruise liner." 

"Well, when you have three people sharing one bed, it has to be a good mattress. Supportive. King-sized. And comfy," Willow explained. 

"So this is the last of it then?" Buffy asked, gesturing at the boxes stacked against the wall. "You're all set?" 

"Guess so," Willow said. "Thanks for helping with all the heavy lifting. Especially since Xander couldn't make it today because of work, and Spike couldn't help, what with the daylight and all."

"No worries," Buffy said. "They're covering patrol tonight instead. I didn't mind lending a hand." 

Willow came closer to her and nudged her gently. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Buffy said briskly, looking around the room. "I'm great. Never better."

"I'll miss living with you too," Willow said in a soft voice, and when she moved forward Buffy hugged her tightly. 

"You know, you're allowed extensive visiting rights," Oz said as he poked his head around the corner before entering the room. 

"Oh, I'll be visiting lots and lots," Buffy assured him as she pulled back and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Can't stay away from my Willow." 

"Devon called to say that he's bringing the van back," Nathan announced from the hallway. He came through the doorway, leaning against the jamb and sneaking an arm around Oz's waist. 

"Thought this place was a band free zone," Buffy said. 

"Devon's just swinging by with a couple of amps and the two guitars I used to keep at his place," Oz answered. "Now I've got space for them in our basement."

"Our basement," Buffy repeated. "You all have a basement that you share. That's like . . . hard-core adult stuff." 

"And hey, other people just think basements are the things underneath a house's foundations," Oz shrugged.

"No, I mean -- the three of you. A house! A whole place that's all yours. And even though it's on the small side, it's a great place." 

"It is pretty cool," Nathan agreed. "A study for Willow upstairs, the basement for Oz if he wants to practice.”

"And what about you?" Buffy asked with a grin. "Don't you rate your own special space?" 

"Oh, I get the rest of the house," Nathan said confidentially.

"Dork," Willow scoffed.

"Who's a dork?" Nathan asked, sidling up beside her before starting to tickle her.

"You . . . are a dork!" Willow gasped in between giggles. "I'm a geek. That's different!" 

"If I'm a dork, and you're a geek, what's Oz?" Nathan asked. His question closed in a yelp as Willow pushed him onto the bed and began to tickle him back. 

"Oh, I'm a spazz," Oz said mildly, giving Willow a little push so that she ended up on the bed beside Nathan. 

Willow shrieked with laughter as she rolled to get away from Oz's descending wriggling fingers, only to end up right in the line of fire from Nathan's tickle attack. "Stop, stop," she pleaded weakly. They all pulled back slightly, catching their breath and relaxing against the mattress. 

"Hey, where's Buffy?" Nathan asked, raising his head from the tangle the three of them made as they lay recovering.

"Staying away from your kinky tickle party," Buffy's voice called out cheerfully from downstairs. "And raiding the refrigerator while I'm at it. All that lifting made me starved." 

"Oh, she's way worse than Devon with food consuming," Oz murmured just before Willow loomed over him, wagging her fingers.

"Oz isn't ticklish. Uh, is he?" Nathan asked as Oz inched away from Willow's touch almost imperceptibly. 

"Oh, he is. If you know all the right spots," Willow said in her best patient-tutor voice. "Like, say for instance, right _here_ . . ."

Downstairs Buffy raised her eyebrows at the sound of Oz laughing breathlessly. "There's something you don't hear every day," she remarked as she poked around in the cabinets. "Ooh, Twinkies," she added happily as she found a half-full box in the recently-stocked shelves and pulled one out. 

 

**********

 

Later that same night as Spike and Xander were walking home from patrol, Xander turned suddenly and said, "We should go out more."

Spike tossed his cigarette into a puddle, where it extinguished with a fizzing sound. "What for? Since you have that funny thing about not wanting to shag in public, better off staying home." 

Xander stopped in his tracks. "You know, you'd think you'd get the appeal of going out, letting the anticipation build --"

"Think I've had enough anticipation with you to last a while, pet," Spike said with that look that always gave Xander the shivers. 

"Okay, fine. But maybe I just want to go out, even if it puts a delay in the sex-having. Because of the fun."

Spike sighed, and then gestured at a darkened doorway behind which the dim sounds of throbbing music could be heard. "Fine. Why not this place then, and right now? Get it out of your system." 

Xander looked up at the building and shivered again, though this time not for a good reason. They were outside the same bar where he had gone that time on a date with Davy. Where he and Spike had fought, and Spike had left alone and . . . What were the odds? 

Well, the odds were pretty good, actually, given that there just were only so many bars in Sunnydale to start with, and only one full-on gay bar that Xander knew about. But when Spike pushed the door open and stalked inside, he decided not to bring it up. 

By mutual unspoken agreement they parted when they got further indoors, and he wove his way through the crowded room to grab a table while Spike went to the bar to get their drinks. No reason to feel at all antsy, Xander told himself. After all, it wasn't like Davy would be at the place the one night that Spike and Xander decided to show. 

A pint of beer set down in front of him startled him back to attention, and he nodded his thanks to Spike, who was already sipping his whisky before he sat down completely. 

"Haven't been here for a while, have we?" Spike asked carelessly, and Xander swallowed some of his beer the wrong way. Goofy to think that Spike wouldn't have a mind like a steel trap about this kind of thing. Of course he remembered.

Xander resisted the urge to start apologizing like crazy and instead took a measured drink of his beer. "Nope. Not for a long while." He glanced around the room like he was just seeing it for the first time since they'd walked in. "But oddly, I've got some really good memories of hanging out here." 

"That right?" Spike asked. His lip curled back slightly, and he took a gulp of his drink instead of a sip.

"Well, yeah," Xander said quietly before letting himself grin. "You coming in here . . . all hot and bothered . . . and big with the possessiveness." 

"That right?" Spike asked again, but now his demeanor changed entirely as he smirked and leaned back in his seat.

"I was kind of an ass that night," Xander noted, biting back his smile when he saw Spike grin in response. 

"Not really, love. Just a bit tight from too many pints and not quite clear on what you wanted."

"Oh, come on," Xander said easily. "At least let me claim stupidity about getting annoyed with you and deciding to stay here with Davy." 

"Can’t find much fault when it finally brought you to me, though," Spike said in a low voice. His eyes were intense as he raised Xander's fingertips to his mouth and brushed them against his lips. 

"Most definitely," Xander said. His eyes followed Spike's tongue as it darted out to wet his lips. "Soon as I figured it out -- and let's just give me a free-to-be-oblivious pass for all the time that it took me -- I knew you were so very much the superior choice." 

"Only a matter of time, working that out," Spike said with a raised eyebrow.

"You know, I would deduct points here for the non-modesty. Except that it's true any way you look at it," Xander agreed. "Davy was . . . just . . . well, I guess he wasn't a totally bad guy, but --" 

"Oh, come on," Spike said with force. "Trying to make you think he was a possibility for you -- getting you drunk and trying to have a go -- not to mention the way he kept up a smear campaign against yours truly." 

"Okay, I give," Xander said, his palms facing up. "Davy was a prick. He tried to come between us and mess with my head. And if I ever see him again, I fully plan to flaunt how much better off I am with you."

"Damn right," Spike grumbled. His expression softed a little when he looked up to find Xander watching him. Then he looked up above Xander's head. And suddenly he was relaxing more in his seat, in a move that Xander recognized as calculated. "Well, love, here's your opportunity," he said with a nod towards the bar. 

Xander's eyes widened. "Oh man. He's -- Davy's -- seriously _here_?"

"That he is. And from the looks of it, he's quit chatting up the dark-haired boy next to him in favor of watching you with his jaw hanging open." 

Xander very deliberately did not turn around, but he exhaled slowly. "Just . . . weird. I mean, the last time I saw him was in the apartment, when he tried to . . . " He trailed off when he saw Spike's eyes flash. "Okay, stopping now." 

"No, not stopping now," Spike said darkly. "Let's have some of that flaunting you mentioned a moment ago."

Xander laughed, and then stared at Spike. "Hey, you're not joking, are you?"

"Absolutely not," Spike said, his eyes flickering back in the direction of the bar. 

"Never let it be said that I don't indulge you," Xander said with a shake of his head.

"Certainly hope not," Spike replied, touching his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he smirked.

Xander leaned forward, resting his weight on his crossed arms on the table. "Wanna dance?" he asked with a grin. 

Spike didn't bother answering, just tugged Xander out of his seat and drew him by the hand over to what passed as a dance floor. 

 

**********

 

There were a number of people clustered on the open space already, some dancing quickly and shouting conversations out over the noise, some moving together sensuously in a slow grind that had nothing to do with the music. 

"So how we going to do this thing?" Xander asked in Spike's ear as they started to sway to the beginning of the next song.

"Just have a bit of fun is all," Spike purred.

The tempo picked up slightly, and Spike turned, his back against Xander's chest, wrapping Xander's arm around him so that his hand rested just above Spike's belt buckle. 

"Oh man," Xander said in a strained voice as Spike moved against him, twisting his hips smoothly. He pressed his lips to the top of Spike's head, murmuring appreciatively when Spike shifted and reached back to cup the back of Xander's head, bringing their mouths together in a slow, teasing kiss. Xander moved his hands to skim up and down Spike's hips, guiding him but letting Spike set the rhythm. 

They moved together like that until Spike, in a sinuous turn, brought them face to face, groin to groin. He growled low in his throat and he pulled Xander's head down, matching their mouths together and flicking his tongue there until Xander's full lips parted for him. 

"Wow," someone said near them, but the voice sounded tinny and distant. Spike swallowed Xander's moan, taking his breath from him while he slid his hands into Xander's back pockets, realigning their hips until they were pushing against each other to the steady beat of the music. 

Xander yanked his head back, taking a quick breath just before Spike drew blunt teeth along the tendons of his neck. "Oh fuck," Xander whispered as he cupped Spike's jaw with both hands and kissed him again.

"That's it baby," Spike murmured as Xander pulled him closer, each of them at that point oblivious to any attention they might be getting from Davy or anyone else. 

Xander laughed. "You know . . . I can admit when I'm wrong about the whole going-out and delaying of sex thing. We should probably get out of here . . . before this goes any further." 

"Why's that?" Spike asked in a low voice as he edged Xander towards a darkened area against the wall.

"Because . . . oh . . . because . . . oh god," Xander hissed as Spike shimmied against him. Xander kept one hand splayed on the small of Spike's back, pressing him in and up, and lifted the other, thumbing against that sharp cheekbone as he bent his head for another kiss. 

"Still want to leave?" Spike crooned.

"Don't know if I can . . . at this point," Xander gasped out. "Moving could become an issue."

"Shh, shh," Spike hushed him, deftly reaching to undo Xander's button fly and take him out. 

Around them the music reverberated, pounding through the speakers. Different men worked their way past in front of them, moving around the floor with motions quick and slow, while shouted conversations transformed into murmurs blending with the music. 

Xander swore as he tiled his head back and thrust his hips helplessly. Spike managed to caress and tease him with nimble fingers even as his other hand grasped tight, pulling hard. The pulse of the music seemed to increase along with their actions, paced to match Xander's harsh breaths and Spike's incoherent, encouraging noises. 

When Xander cried out and closed his eyes simultaneously, Spike watched the flashing lights playing across his parted lips, highlighting the beads of sweat on his forehead, texturing the rapturous expressions cycling quickly across his face as he came. 

 

**********

 

When Xander finally opened his eyes again, Spike was pressed against him, licking his hand clean. "And that just keeps right on being hot," Xander said weakly as he buttoned his jeans back up. 

"Come on love," Spike grinned at him. "Let's go home." 

"You going to carry me out?" Xander asked in a languid voice. 

"Will if I have to," Spike answered. His scarred eyebrow arched and he swept his eyes up and down Xander's disheveled form.

Xander's eyes went from heavy-lidded to slightly widening. "Oh man. How do you do that?" 

"Already showing some interest, eh?" Spike asked, breezing his fingers over Xander's groin. 

"Nearly," Xander said with a half smile. "Getting close to it, anyway. No way do I have your turnaround time. But you figure for how long it takes us to get home from here, and --" 

"Right, then, we're leaving now," Spike said seriously. 

 

**********

 

The walk home did, of course, take a little while, especially given Spike's penchant for pinning Xander against darkened doorways to rub against him and growl tantalizing words in his ear. But finally the soft cries that his movements pulled from Xander spurred him to hurry them on once again. 

As they slammed into the apartment (contributing yet another crack in the drywall from where the knob often struck it during such hasty entrances) Xander stopped for a moment. "Hey, wait," he panted.

"What for?" Spike asked. "Home now, love." 

"But that whole . . . dance floor show thing . . ."

"Yeah?"

"Did he even see all that?"

"Did who see what?" Spike asked, keeping his eyes riveted on Xander and grasping both of Xander's hands with his, backing them towards the bedroom. 

"You know," Xander began to say between kisses as they stopped briefly against the wall in the hallway. "At the bar . . ."

Then Spike pulled Xander's hand down, pressing it against the stiff cock standing in relief against the denim of his jeans, and Xander moaned and forgot all about whose name he had been about to say.


	32. Friends and Lovers

"So how did the moving in party go at the new homestead?" Xander asked as he poured Buffy another cup of coffee.

"Well, Nathan and Oz and Willow already had the furniture in, so it was mostly boxes," Buffy said. "But heavy! You should be glad that you got out of that one in exchange for patrolling. Want to guess how many boxes of books Willow had?" 

"I'd put good money on bunches of boxes," Xander said, putting another teaspoon of sugar into his coffee and stirring.

"You'd win big time," Buffy affirmed. She reached across him toward the plate of brownies that she’d brought, and waved one in his direction. "But you already won, what with the not-moving." 

"Well, I couldn't really get out of that round of on-site meetings. Some of us are working stiffs, Buff," Xander pointed out. 

"Yeah. Some of us," Buffy said with a pointed look at Spike, who had just stumbled into the living area, hair tousled, wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt of Xander's that was too big for him. 

Spike curled his lip at her in a half-sneer, but Buffy just rolled her eyes as he leaned over Xander to bury his nose in his hair and then kiss the top of his head.

"You okay, though, finding housing on your own?" Xander asked. He absently pulled Spike towards him in a brief squeeze, and then grinned as he watched him wander over to gaze at the coffee pot with a confused look on his face. 

She shrugged and bit off another corner of her brownie. "I guess. It’s not really a problem right now, since I'm going to be at home for the summer in a month anyway. And next fall I'll just start over in the dorms with a shiny new single."

"Think they'll put anyone else in your double for the rest of this semester?" Xander asked. 

"Nah. I'm totally playing up that burned-down-the-gym and blew-up-the-high-school angle to work that psycho single option. And oh, don't forget -- my first roommate disappeared without a trace. And who's a better suspect than me?" she noted brightly. "Just let 'em try to move anyone else in, and I'll be ready with the full fake freak show." 

"Fake, eh?" Spike asked as he leaned on the counter. His low, menacing tone was only slightly marred by the yawn that overtook him at that moment.

Buffy waved her hand in the air as if Spike were an annoying fly buzzing about her head. "So no roommates for me either this semester or next year. And I figure, without roommate distractions I can _totally_ plot to reverse my current boyfriend-less status." 

"But you haven't been hunting down boys for your nefarious Amazonian male-domination games before this because . . .?" Xander asked.

"Because I've been way busy helping out you and Willow with _your_ love lives," Buffy explained impatiently. "First I was trying to keep you and Spike apart, and then I was working to get you together. And then, just when I got the two of you nice and settled and Davy out of the way, the whole Nathan and Willow and Oz thing went crazy haywire. Took me a while to make sure that would work out, and believe you me, those three can be a handful when they want to be. You saw how long it took them to move in together." 

Spike and Xander exchanged befuddled looks. "Got to tell you, Buffy, didn't realize how much you'd been working behind the scenes there," Xander offered.

"Oh, I've spent a lot of time and energy on other people's relationships this year. But it was worth it," Buffy answered with a weary sigh. "But now that none of my friends are wigging out about that kind of stuff, I'm ready to move in on one or two of the many guys at UC Sunnydale who are not only hot and smart, but sensitive, funny, _and_ warm." 

Xander gestured at her with his mug, sloshing some of the coffee on the table. "That's the spirit. With all those good pickings, you're bound to meet someone great."

"Can't be that good of an assortment," Spike said, joining them at the table with his own cup brimming with coffee. "Only so many desirable Romeos out in the world to start with. Can't imagine they'd all end up serendipitously in proximity to you." 

Xander cleared his throat. "Well . . . uh . . . what Spike means, is --"

Spike sipped at his coffee contemplatively. "Besides, Willow's already gone and landed herself two of them. So the number's gone down right there." Xander shot him a look as Buffy's eyes widened slightly. 

But Spike continued, blithely unaware of Xander's foot winding up and preparing to kick him hard. "Ought to teach you a lesson, that. Better to spend your time keeping your nose out of your friends' tiffs and troubles, and spend those perky obsessive qualities on the mess you've made of your own love life." 

"Oh man," Xander said under his breath as Buffy's face crumpled. Even Spike looked vaguely pained, though that could well have been from the toe of Xander's boot jamming into his shin. 

There was a brief, tense pause, and then:

"I'm never going to meet _anyone_!" Buffy wailed. "Angel left because he said I'd be better off, but since then, I only meet guys who are almost all complete jerks. Or, if they're not total lost causes, they're only interested in other _guys_! And it's so incredibly unfair that Willow has two really great boyfriends who aren't jerks and aren't completely gay and I'm going to be all alone for the _rest of my life_!" 

"Hey, hey, hey," Xander said quickly, scrambling out of his seat and pulling Buffy up out of her chair into a tight hug. "It's not going to be like that, okay? Maybe it won't be the easiest thing ever, finding someone you like, and maybe it'll take a while, but there's no way that you're doomed to a life alone. You'll meet someone, they'll be great, you'll be great, and you'll both be happy." 

"Who'd want to be with me?" Buffy snuffled against Xander's chest. 

"Going to be hard to find someone willing to put up with the odd hours you keep," Spike observed, stopping when Xander turned an icy glare in his direction. 

"Lots of people," Xander said emphatically. "Even Spike thinks so. Right, Spike?" He nodded at Spike, clearly indicating that now was the time to step into the fray and mend some of the drama he'd helped to set in motion. 

"Sure, you'll be all right," Spike said reluctantly. Buffy's breath hitched in a sob. Xander curled his fingers towards him, gesturing for more. "You're . . . not bad looking," Spike continued. "Most of the time. And you're . . . nice." He grimaced as the last word left his mouth. Luckily only Xander could see the face that he made because Buffy's nose was still pressed against Xander's chest. 

"And you're Buffy," Xander said, pulling back and tipping her chin up with his finger, making her meet his gaze. "You're great. It'll all work out."

"Promise?" Buffy asked in a small voice.

"Absolutely," Xander assured her, giving her one last hug. 

Buffy sniffled and then stepped back, brushing out the wrinkles in her shirt and smoothing her hair self-consciously. "Thanks, Xander. Sorry for getting all upset just now."

"I think you're due the occasional freak-out," Xander said gravely. 

"Especially considering you might need to put on your fake freak show to stay roommate-free," Spike pointed out.

Xander looked askance at him but Buffy just laughed out loud. "That's right," she said lightly, wiping her eyes. "Got to keep in practice, scare those potential roomies away." 

"Anything I can do to help, just say the word," Xander said sympathetically. "Oh, more on the guy-finding mission, though -- I don't know how great I'd be at scaring off potential roommates."

Buffy smiled and slipped on her jacket. "Thanks, seriously," she said, reaching out and giving his arm a squeeze. "I just may take you up on that." 

She left shortly after that, and Xander drained the last of his coffee, looking at the door every so often. Spike wandered out of the room, and his movements in the bedroom and then in the spare room approached ruckus-level, but Xander didn't really register it, still lost in thought. 

"So what are we going to do about Buffy?" Xander asked when Spike charged back into the room, fully awake but still in his pajamas.

"Don't care," Spike said shortly. He disappeared, though the noise he made rummaging around in the cabinets in the bathroom and tossing boxes of band-aids, aspirin, and razors on the floor gave away his location easily enough. 

"She just seemed so down," Xander called after him.

"Yeah, well. Strong woman, modern times, and all that. Take care of herself, I imagine." Spike reemerged and headed for the hall closet. "Now then . . ." he muttered. 

Xander stood and walked over to the closet, leaning against the frame while Spike rooted around in search of something. "I know, she can take care of herself, but . . . I don't like that she's unhappy."

"Don't, do you?" Spike asked noncommittally. He cursed when a box of odds and ends tumbled down and spilled its contents on the floor.

"Spike? It makes _me_ sad that she's upset," Xander said meaningfully. 

Spike froze. 

"You're sad?" he asked anxiously. "Because she is?" He dropped the fistful of hangers he held onto the floor with a clatter and pulled Xander to him.

After a few minutes of Spike petting and cooing at him, Xander pulled back and laughed. "This is nice and all . . . but not really targeting the problem at hand." 

"Right," Spike nodded emphatically, regaining his take-charge attitude. He reached around Xander to grab a canvas bag from the floor, and then examined its contents with a keen eye. "Not in here either."

"Spike, you know how much I want things to be cool for my friends . . . They tried to help so much when things were weird with us . . . "

"Not that it did us a great deal of good," Spike observed. 

"And I felt like I was getting through to you, with the dinner party, and the group patrols, just how much that it's important to me," Xander continued, trying not to raising his voice. "Like now with Buffy -- it’s not just having her around, but making sure that she . . . how she . . ." he trailed off in confusion and blinked at Spike. "What's not in there either?" 

"The scented oil," Spike announced. He scowled a little and stalked towards the kitchen, pulling open the doors of the cabinet below the sink and nudging the contents with his foot.

"What are you talking about?" Xander asked him impatiently. 

"What are _you_ talking about?" Spike asked back over his shoulder.

"Buffy."

"Bath."

They looked disapprovingly at one another for a few moments. Xander's face was the first to clear. 

"Bath?" he asked happily. He disappeared briefly into the bedroom and came out bearing a large new bottle of the bath oil that Spike favored. 

"Oh, lovely," Spike purred to the bottle of oil, promptly turning on his heel and stomping towards the bathroom. 

"Hey," Xander called after him with some amusement, watching Spike fondle the container lovingly. "You, uh, need some help in there? Because I feel kind of . . . dirty myself, and . . . mmph," he finished in a rush of air as Spike hustled him into the bathroom and drew his head down for a passionate kiss. 

"Talk about the slayer later, won't we?" Spike murmured.

"Uh . . . yeah," Xander managed as Spike quickly divested him of his button-down shirt and pulled his t-shirt over his head. "Later. Because . . . oh god . . . " 

 

**~*~** The End **~*~**


End file.
